The House of Uial and the Tale of The Last son
by Elvenson
Summary: The story of an unsung elf of Doriath, who's story was not forgotten by the sands of time- Features Celeborn, Galadriel, Elrond, Celebrian, Cirdan, And almost every one else...This is a finished story
1. the history of the house of Uial

The characters and lands belong to the immortal mind of J.R.R. Tolkien, save for Celebrin, Alphindil and any one else I had to make up in the process. I tried my hardest not to mess with dogma, and any actions using J.R.R's characters were done with the belief in keeping true to their essence. 

The tale of Celebrin of the house of Uial is not known in many stories or lays of great nobility, save one, this is known in the heart of the Sindar who remembers well the Sickle of Doriath and the Standard-bearer of the Lord Celeborn in the Second age of Ennor. Yet now few remain who know his tale, save he, who has lived for many eons of the lifetimes of men, the last of the house of Uial, who wanders the forests and ancient lands of Ennor, on paths well known to him.

The tale of the house of Uial

In the mist of Cuivienen

Awoke a noble Lord

Whose face saw the stars, undimmed

Before he saw the endless sea

Before he heard Sirion

And its mighty voice

In Cuivienen,

Where the earth-womb is.

His face shone bright

Against the nightshade of his hair

So that he looked as a star

Or rather countless stars

Rested upon the uncrowned tresses,

In the shimmering night.

Uial his kinsman named him

That was the house he would found

Not great in glory shining

Yet noble in humility

Hale in wisdom

Strong in Will and Love.

Dark yet bright as the twilight

His true name was Elorn

For he stood tall, and bent in honor

When the wind suited him to

Yet stood the test of many throngs,

And the stars were written in his face.

He lived beside the tides of Avernien

Kin to Cirdan shipwright of ancient fame

And loved the sea beneath the stars.

He sang songs to its never-ending music

And rolled his voice to it's depths.

There in peace he was content

To be caressed by Uinen

Yet doom unseen lay ahead for him.

There came a time to feast with Kin

In the halls of Thingol King

Menegroth, caves of unending beauty

Where sat Melian, Maia of twilight's beginning

Beside her Gray-Lord, and their starlit daughter, fair

Most beautiful of all the maids of the earth

Most loved, and cherished

By all the Eledhrim

So came Cirdan to Menegroth's halls

With his host in hand, Kin and friend

Elorn, lone of the house of Uial.

To dine with Thingol King

And Melian, queen of Doriath

The bright stars of Neldoreth

As the meal was ending, and laughter

Making forgotten long sundering.

And Teleri remained one

In those days before the Moon

Elorn beheld Tathiril of Doriath

Maidservant of Melian Queen.

Wine bearer for Luthien Daermeleth

And Daughter of the Cuivienen.

Her hair shone darkly before him

In its earthen hue, both golden and brown

In the firelight it gleamed, fiery brown

And love found him, and sundered him

From his beloved ever-moving sea.

From that day he left his kin

And dwelt as the woodland folk

Though seafarer at heart.

And she became enamored of his gray eyes

And Dark hair that mirrored the dark sky.

So that they became in their union

The marriage of earth and sky

Golden brown mingled with Silver nightshade

Wood met Sea, and they made music

Sung throughout the awakened woods.

Shell flute and wooden harp,

Deep-sea voice and lofty woodland song,

It came from the depths of the sea

To the heights of the mountains

And into the world of dreams.

So the eons passed into eons

The peace of the land was disturbed

And the girdle fenced Menegroth

From Ungoliant's passage

And Orc raid that burned and hacked

The beloved wood.

And shining Eldar kin from far in the west

Where the twin trees were not a mere song.

Where light burned unending

And the sea met its western end.

Eldamar, Valinor the blest

Realm of Melian long sundered.

Kindred with dreaded doom

Resting upon their eyes and visage

And unseen blood unwashed from their hands.

Yet fairer in look and manner,

Calaquendi they called themselves

Moriquendi they called the Eledhrim

And seed of sundering was sown in strong words

And proud tongues, though noble

Still deadly proud

Yet golden light came into Neldoreth

As the twilight ended with the coming of the sun

A golden light from Valinor fair

Lady of the Light, new wife of Celeborn

Prince of Neldoreth, most beloved

By the house of Uial.

Years passed into decades and the stars

Circled the sky for countless nights.

Fires blazed the woods of old

And war marred the earth undimmed before

Noldorin princes rose and fell, in battle.

And Sindar lost, were many and unsung.

Unsung by minstrels of the lighted people,

Yet the house of Uial, and Daeron the great

Did not forget the blood of the kindred slain

And songs were sung greatly in Thingol's hall

In Neldoreth, where he sat as king.

Thus years after the rising of the sun

Mortal men came to Beleriand fair

And fought in wars beside Eldarin kind.

Thus Beren Camlost came to Doriath doomed

And brought forth the jewel of Valinorean light

Conquering a feet, that no Noldor could match

With Luthien, Beloved of the Sindar,

Forged from Sindarin and Maiar loin.

Though she was lost beyond the fate of the Eldar

And Lost forever to they

Who loved her most, her people.

Dearly bought, and dearly kept

The Jewel sat in the hoard of Thingol king

Till a doomed man came,

Bearing treasure taken, from Nargothrond

Lost Kingdom of Noldorin friend, Finrod

Last to bring honor

To Noldorin blood, save Turgon the brave.

It was then that the Nauglamir,

Necklace of the Dwarves came into the land

And doom was written for Doriath that day,

Darkness lay about the land of Arda.

And the House of Uial came to live

In the heart of Neldoreth that was Doriath.

And the earth and sky rejoiced

For a son was born to them

Yet in war and haste

They named him Celebrin

So that all would know his house

By the light of his face

It was in these times of bittersweet joy

That Thingol the beloved king

Was slain by Dwarvish axe. For greed

Though revenged the jewel that wrought the death

Left Doriath, yet so too did the protection

Of Melian, Last queen of Neldoreth and Doriath.

And all songs were sung of woe and mourning.

Thus in sorrow, the youth grew

And scarce did Elorn see his son reach youth

That the cursed jewel returned

To the hands of Dior King

Heir of Thingol Cruelly Slain.

Thus was the doom of the Noldor full-wrought

For t'was not the forces of Morgoth

That assailed Doriath the Sorrow-laden

But kindred from across the sea.

Such was the day

The very sunrise gleamed red as blood

And the woods sung not their song

And Eldar came to kill Eldar

Noldorin doomed, came to the destruction of Doriath

Yet valiantly did the Teleri fight

Though in vain, for the Noldor were great

In means of war, and treachery

Celeborn fought beside his wife, Galadriel

Gold and Silver shone against the dark host

And so to did Elorn, first of the house of Uial

Wielding his sword, Lin-gladaear.

As the very forest burned in warfare

He became fey and left his wife and child

In the care of the other maidens of Melian.

And so left to his doom

Cursing they who destroyed his home.

Though death took him swift

It took him cruelly, hewn by kindred sword.

His headless body lay upon the grass

Before the door of Menegroth,

In full sight of the woman he left his people for.

The love of all his long years

Saw then the love of countless eons

Disgraced and hewn as an animal

By animals cruel and evil, kin-slayers

And she ran,

Tathiril, daughter of Cuivienen

Wife of the twilight,

Mother of last of the house of Uial

To the man she loved for eons passed

And the great prince called for her

Tathiril! Tathiril! Come inside

He cried, yet she heeded not his call.

Thus Celeborn overtook her

Who was now fey and cared not for her own safety

She entered assailed Menegroth, covered in blood

Wielding the song of the woods and the sea.

And she kissed her child dearly, and when asked

Whether she would stay with her only child

She spoke with broken songless voice,

I will not give my child a ghost for a mother

And she left to meet her doom

There she stood with sword in hand

Beside the body of Dior slain

Defending in vain the throne of Doriath.

And she cried out curses to the kin slayers.

And she hewed many a betrayer,

Yet her fey, songless voice was silenced

By three accursed arrows

Strewn into her heart.

The end of so valiant a woman

Was seen by her own child

Who ran to his mother in his fear.

Here Celebrin, last of the house of Uial

Embraced his fallen mother, and she weeps his tears.

And there she died, last of the great maidens of Melian

Earthen hair dried with blood, shone no more

Save in the hair of her child.

And the youth Celebrin took up his father's sword

And the fire in his sea gray eyes shone forth as two bright stars.

And beside them a scarlet tear ran from his eye

A cut not by enemy arrow or sword

But a cut, by the jewel worn on the neck

Of his mother valiant

Broken and made jagged by the arrows

That pierced her agonizing heart.

Like that deep blue gem his inner eye shone

And around his glare, white of the brilliant twilight

And his sword shone icy blue

And his deep woodland clothing stained

In honorable sacrifice.

And the hair of sky and earth

Shone as the coming of the storm

And the burning of embers into flame

Brown and dark

Yet filled with light imperishable

It was in this way that the fey child ran into battle

To the aid of the last prince of Doriath

Yet none of the kin slayers

Would dare touch a youth so young

Even one who had naught to live for in the entire world.

And many lay slain before his feet

And he fought till his bones grew tired

And his soul fought on,

Though the body of his youth began to die out.

Conflicted so between body and soul

He fell in tears and agony

Though a swoon took him long

He awoke far from the ashes of his mother

Or the buried body of his father.

The scent of the sea awoke him

And the memories of what his young eyes had seen

Plagued his dreams, and his hands

Still covered in the blood of his accursed kin

It was in the safety of Cirdan's harbor

That he mended

And for many battles and ages after he fought

Until there were no more to fight.

And the scars he took with him

Healed in all his long years of sorrow

Yet one remained, called by some the sickle of Doriath

That which brought remorse to kin slayer's hearts

Memories of the lonely child

Drenched in his mothers valiant blood

And the sickle remains upon his cheek

, a deep scarlet tear upon his face

Thus he lives, wandering

Searching for a home amongst his failing kin

Torn between the sea and the wood

He remains thus

Last of the house of Uial

Yet the tale does not end there, for Celebrin the child who bears the Sickle of Doriath, lived on, in the care of Cirdan, kinsman to his father Elorn. And short years passed before another would come into his life. After the fall of Gondolin refugees from the city flocked to the care of the shipwright. And it was then that Celebrin met a child who came from the city, an orphan as he was, his name was Alphindil, a child of Sindar and Noldorin loins, not much younger than he was. In their united sorrow they became great friends, for none knew the horrors of their misted hearts, it is years after Beleriand fell into the ocean, and Cirdan rules in Mithlond that this tale is wrought.


	2. In Mithlond fair

The sun sets over the widened ocean revealing the stars of a different land yet not unknown to they who walk immortally upon the earth, for they were born before the moon and sun took flight. They know these stars for they traveled beneath them an age before, to the Blessed realm of Aman. It is upon the shores of what was once the valley of the Ered Luin, that Celebrin Elornion, Last of the House of Uial, stands before the setting of the sun to watch the stars of the new land. His face shines with a radiance akin to the twilight of the world, before Arda was marred by the malice of Morgoth the defeated foe. Yet his face, though reminiscent of a time before the breaking of the world, is not fully without marring. For upon his pure countenance, that reflects his birth right and surname, lays the scares of an age filled with joy and sorrow, darkness and light. It is called the sickle of Doriath, for the sight of it among the Kin-slayers, brings sorrow to deeds that guilt will never free them of. For in their minds plays the scene of a child, fey and filled with wrath and rage, before the body of his mother, slain. The very sight of him brings to their hearts unending grief, yet to the hearts of the Teleri it brings hope unlooked for. For in their hearts, lies still the burning anger for the destruction of their blessed realms of Menegroth and the refuge of Balar. This youth stands upon the broken shore and looks at the sun in her descent, and he cringes at the sight of her brightness, as he is a son of Doriath, a person of the stars.  
  
His thoughts are many and diverse, recalling the end of his beloved land, the grave of his father resting at the bottom of the sea, though he was buried on a hill, and the ashes of his mother scattered among the forest, that now lay beneath the waves. He recalls the Battle of the Valar who now left with many of the Edain, with rumors of a new land for them to call their own. Many of his folk were gone too, seeking the bliss of the Blessed Isle, away from memories of the Darker times. Yet many remained loyal to Cirdan and Celeborn most beloved of the princes and lords of Doriath. Even now they prepared to move eastward towards the rising moon. And they would leave him again, his people, though not utterly as the others had. They left now because the blood of the Kin-slaying at Doriath and Balar still ran hot among them, and many "high"-elves remained there, because of Erenion, the last high-king of the Noldor; though more alike to Finrod his father, who was friend to many Sindar people, and he was skilled, this king, in the culture of the Sindar, and in that he was beloved and respected by Cirdan and his people.  
  
"Why do you look at the sun as she leaves, when the Moon arrives and greets you fairly?"  
  
The voice was well known to Celebrin, and it brought a shy smile to his face in all his thoughts of sundering and kin-slaying. Yes those days are over... To the voice he turned his head and replied,  
  
"Mae govannen, mellon nin, I have no reason, I am afraid, as to why I look at the fleeting sun rather than the oncoming moon, it is possible that I hope for the gray ships to return, and bring back the fair folk of Valinor."  
  
The reply was aimed at a fair elf, whose beauty matched his comrade's, yet was not of the twilight, but rather of the dark sea in the nightime of the new world, fleeting yet returning still to beat upon the shores of sorrow. This youth bore joy in his countenance despite his previous sorrow, and his face shone as a lamp lit sea, dim yet brilliantly beautiful. Like his Noldor kin, his eyes bore the light of Aman, though he never saw it himself, and thus their dark earthen hue was turned into brilliant hazel, colored as the wheat fields in the autumn. His hair was dark and shimmered in the dusk, yet did not shine as brilliantly dark as his companion's, for the latter was born of Doriath, to a family well known for their reflection of the twilight.  
  
Their eyes met, one hazel the other sea gray, and thy smiled at one another in voiceless jest, and continued their conversation for the ears of the sea. Celebrin sighed and said, "Alas Alphindil, you do bring joy to my heart again, you are never without sorrow."  
  
"Alas that you call me such a name, tis not my own."  
  
"Were it not for your attire, I would have chosen another name for you my friend."  
  
Celebrin referred to the clothing his friend always wore, which was decorated in some way or another by swans, either embroidered or by another means. For indeed he dressed as one of Vanyimar, and his family had always held a special devotion to them as sailors. At the mention of his attire Alphindil touched a brooch he always wore even if he did not wear a cloak, for it was dear to him. It was in the figure of a swan in flight, made of a strange black material that shimmered darkly in the light of the sun, and was made all the more beautiful by the winding mithril design that enhanced its dark beauty and held a shimmering pearl, taken from the shores of Nevrast. He looked at it and laughed to himself.  
  
"Such things we must all wear, lest we forget the travails of past years, for is that not why you wear your tear," he said touching the scar upon his friend's right cheek. At the caress of his friend Celebrin laughed silently, thinking of his friend's comparison of the scar he came to loathe and the treasure his friend cherished. He turned his head to the sea and felt the cool western breeze caress his face, filling his nose with its salty, ancient fragrance, at which point he said,  
  
"One must laugh, else they cry and waste away. Tell me mellon, have you decided where you are to go?"  
  
Alphindil gazed into the west and then gave out a sigh, "Why do you ask me such a question? Is it not apparent that the ships have already left?"  
  
"I did not mean to the west my friend," Celebrin turned from the sea and walked towards the uncarved cliffs now lined with huts, "many of my folk wish to leave the shores of this land, and go where the trees grow tall and have not been changed by the malice of time and war. And for my part my heart yearns for the woods again, yet here by the shore lives my lord Cirdan, who's rule and manner I have become accustomed to. Which would you choose?"  
  
"Cirdan is a mighty lord, yet if I know my friend well enough, you still bear some resentment towards the Noldor who now dwell with King Erenion, even though many have left to Valinor or with Celebrimor. Is that not why you wish to follow your kinsmen? And if indeed that is the way you feel, you are torn between your pledge to Cirdan, who took you in as an orphan, and your own people who move east as we speak."  
  
Celebrin smiled at this and said, "You were always one for many words, yet it is not my resentment for your father-people why I wish to follow the Sindar. My family has always served the family of the King of Doriath, yet now with Doriath gone, I know not my place in the world."  
  
"Must you have a place?"  
  
This voice came from beside them and when they turned to see its origin they were surprised to see a tall figure, whose head was wreathed in a silver light and whose face was hale in it's glory.  
  
"My lord...", Celebrin motioned to bend on one knee, yet was stopped by the figure, who grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet.  
  
"Stand Elornion, you need not bow to me, it is not the fashion of our people to bend on one's knee unless he be a King of great renown, and he is not here."  
  
"Forgive me for this, you took me by surprise. I...I did not intend for you..."  
  
"And yet I did hear your speech Elornion Uial... it has been the concern of many of our people, to leave or to go, and to sunder all that we have built. Your family Elornion, has always chosen the gray of life, believe me when I tell you this, you have no obligation to me, or to Cirdan, merely to yourself; A life of servitude is not what your parent's wished for you."  
  
And with that the elven lord left as silently as he had arrived, seeming only to be a shadow of a dream, and the two companions stood motionless at what had happened; for it was one thing to speak with an Elven lord in the midst of battle, but in times of peace such things gave way to propriety. And the two sat on the shore line until the weight of the chance encounter and a surprisingly casual one, had left them, and then as if it was hidden in a wrapped box their laughter burst out of them. And when that had subsided the night was already an hour old, laughter gave way to sighing, and then silence emersed them. And naught was heard between them until Celebrin spoke at long last after the moon had past the parapet of the sky.  
  
"What would you chose mellon nin? The sea or the woods?"  
  
"You know my choice, I am by all accounts an Elf of the sea, though born of both Noldo and Sindar, Erenion is my lord, it is the way of my people to gather in strength. We are not like you, able to seek a solitary life. Even though I fear another sundering between us, if you choose the woods I would not begrudge you that."  
  
Celebrin listened to his friend, the only person who understood his sorrow, though would never understand his anger at his half-people. The elf spoke so stoically, so coldly that it seemed unbearable to hear it, and his face could not be searched for emotion only understanding that what he spoke was the truth. Alphindil's whole life had been by the sea, to ask him to leave it now would be as if he asked him to leave behind that which he held most dear. Their bond was undeniable, for them to part now, when all Eldar were in most need of rekindled friendship was to be torn from their own selves. The tragedies they had known, forced them together and from that union they formed an unlikely bond amidst all the anger and resentment for the kinslayings of Doriath and Balar. They knew that they would never see one another again if they were to part now, for they were too weary to travel all the uncharted miles in unknown woods to remain as such as they were. It was this foresight granted to the child of Uial, though misted, always guided his actions,  
  
"I am not ready to part company with you my friend, I shall remain here by the sea and learn the ways my father came to love most."  
  
And thus the two remained together helping to rebuild the Kingdom of Erenion who was affectionately referred to as Gil-galad by his Sindar subjects, and by many of the Noldo too. 


	3. The coming of Darkness

The coast that was once covered with the huts of vagabonds and exiles now rose up in gray stone and was carved out of the very cliffs that surrounded the havens of Cirdan's realm, thus it came to be known as Mithlond, the gray havens. And its towers rose tall and its fortifications stood proudly against the beatings of the sea, it is there that the two friends increased their bond. Working among the stone, Alphindil taught much of Noldor handicraft to his friend and rejoiced to see him taking a liking to it, especially in the making of jewels and silver. Though apprehensive at first in learning the craft of the kin-slayers Celebrin could not satiate the lust for learning his friend gave him a trait that all elves held regardless of cultural divide. And they would walk through the streets of Mithlond, giving hope to they who struggled with such divides, for not many would forget the attack upon the Bay of Balar, that sundered the houses of Finwe. Yet their relationship did not surround the ways of the teacher and the student. For in as much as Celebrin learned of stone and jewel work, he taught as much, of the herb lore of his woodland kin and the making of instruments of wood and shell, a craft learned at a young age. It was then that rumor grew of the great continent of Numenor, the kingdom of men at the height of its glory, and the name Aldarion became known to all in Mithlond. Yet rumor more terrible grew of the shadow that had begun to multiply in the east, and more woodland folk came to the shores of Mithlond from the long established realm of Eregion, masses speaking of the deciever in the very courts of the Lord and Lady. Such rumors Celebrin refused to believe, for how could lords as wise as Galadriel and Celeborn accept such a person into their domain, knowing full well his malice and content for the Eldar. Then one night, while Alphindil stood guard over the walls of Mithlond he saw a dark shadowed cloud fill in the far east and to the south, a fire great and unimaginable clouded the stars of that land with its blackness. And upon the moors of the Valley of Lindon he saw riders dressed in silver mail and bearing the banner of the King Gil-galad, along with another dressed in a black cloak, almost invisible to the unaware eye. They were received at the gate and one of them dressed in silver mail came to him and said "Gaereledh, lead us to the lord Cirdan." At the mention of his mother-name, he stood agape and and bowed to him and quickly led them to the hall of the Lord Cirdan, who stood waiting with the door opened allowing the warmth of its fire to emminate from the opening and light the dark night. When the travelers had entered he was bided to stay and after their council lead them to freshly prepared quarters. When the travelers had no need of him for that time he took his place beside Celebrin, who stood amongst the kindred of Cirdan, dressed in naught but a robe hastingly put on and without properly braided hair, apparently woken up from sleep. The sight made him giggle, and with a look of mutual light air, Celebrin went beside his friend and whispered to him, "Perhaps you know as to why I have been awakened from the dream world?"  
  
"That reason I do not know...I thought you only slept at dusk and awakend to the stars."  
  
"It was a long day, yours will be short if you do not stop laughing at me."  
  
This jest did not surprise Alphindil, it was common for them to mock- threaten each other. He would have responded similarily yet a traveler began to speak and removed his cloak to reveal Elrond Half-elven, a sight that had become common in Mithlond as he was the personal knight of Gil- galad.  
  
"My lord Cirdan, most trusted advisor of my lord Erenion, High King of the Noldor, I thank you for seeing me upon such short notice. Yet I fear I have evil news from my King and from the Lady Galadriel of Eregion if indeed it still stands this night."  
  
"Such short noticed is not needed for you Peredhel, tell me this news, for I fear that it may be truth rather than dreams that awoke me at this hour to your coming."  
  
"I know not the full tale, yet a traveler from Eregion seeks you out, a Noldor who calls himself of the Mirdain."  
  
At the mention of this name Cirdan stood and gazed at the traveler in black, who upon removing his cloak stood indeed to be known as Noldor, yet not known to the Lord or any of the hall. He came up to the level of Elrond and spoke gravely.  
  
"My lord Cirdan, I bring word from Eregion, Sauron the deceiver has begun his attack upon the realm of Celebrimor, who now lies dead in the smiths of his kingdom. The land is besieged by fire and orcs, and now Celeborn of Doriath leads the armies of the Noldor, or at least that was my last sight of that land. He has brought forth great worms, and shadow figures that seek to bring fear to the hearts of the soliders. These creatures are unknown to us, for they ride in a lightless black that seems to show no color at all, and they scream as if they are in pain, yet they cause many of our people to die in their quake."  
  
Cirdan stood motionless as he heard this, seeking the paths of his mind that only and Eldar as ancient as he was could trod.  
  
"Traveler, this news affects us all deeply for we are on the onset of war, a war that I fear was never ended. Yet this news should be sent to Erenion, not I. Peredhel has some malice come upon the High King?" "It has not my lord, this traveler indeed came to Lindon before we brought him here. The High King Erenion has declared that all available troops be deployed form Mithlond to stay the attack that now heads to your Lands. Legions from all over Lindon have been ordered to arm for battle. Yet this traveler also bears a package as well as a message from Celeborn of Doriath."  
  
The traveler took from his dark cloak a small wooden box that was richly carved yet locked with a mithril clasp, presenting it to Cirdan he spoke,  
  
"These words are from Celeborn, now leader of the armies of Eregion, and Galadriel of the house of Fingon, ' Cirdan, Lord of Mithlond, we send you these gifts that only you know of, to keep them safe from the forces that darken our lands with flame and malice. We beseech you prepare a ship lest we fail and take these precious things upon it and sail to the west, safe from the malice that seeks them. You must not suffer any to open their incasing; the reason is known to you, keep them secret and safe. ' and from my lord Erenion, ' Seek the power of men, and bid them come to our aid, by the swiftest road of the sea."  
  
The traveler silenced himself and bowed to Cirdan, who took the box and with a bow of release he left the hall with it and was not seen for a long time after. Alphindil left the side of his friend and escorted the travelers to the lodgings in the center of the city. The twain did not speak the rest of that night. And days passed as all the garrisons of Mithlond that could be spared were ordered to prepare to join the battles and the armies of Erenion Gil-galad. 


	4. Call to arms

Upon the day of deployment all the city was in a state of sorrow and anxiety, for many remembered the pains of war from the elder days, the loss of precious life. Many Noldor and Sindar alike, from Gondolin dressed in their Noldorin attire, gilded and they bore the blue dress of Erenion patterned with many stars, their helms glowed and shimmered in the sunlight and their horses shone as white stars amidst all the people. And beside the hall of Cirdan stood a house, decorated in dark wood, upon whose posts were carved symbols of an ancient realm. Amidst all the Noldorin and sea-folk architecture it stood out the most for it was made in the manner of the woodland folk of Neldoreth who did not dwell in the trees or in caves. Upon the lintel of the door was carved a sign that read "house of the Eledhrim" and the oak door that was braced with bronze workings lay open to one gilded in Nodorin armor, whose cloak was clasped with a black swan gilded with mithril.  
  
When he entered Alphindil saw his friend clutching his sword, speaking to it's thought, hearing it's song, something Alphindil had never learned how to do, nor did he wish to. He gave out a slight cough and recalled the attention of his friend. To his surprise Celebrin did not seem to take his being in armor well, he scoffed and then strided to the opposite side of the hall.  
  
"I see you mean to leave to battle," he said, pouring some water for himself.  
  
"You do not mean to tell me you did not think I would not follow my Lord for the defense of my land...and my friends. I know you would have me stay here and defend the ships with you, but I cannot, my place is with my people."  
  
"Are we not your people too? Are not the Teleri your mother-kin?"  
  
Alphindil was surprised to hear the anger come from his friend's mouth, something he had only witnessed once. He knew Celebrin would not march into battle under the banner of Erenion Gil-galad, he had too much pride for that, nor would he wear the armor of the Noldor. But he did not expect him to disapprove of him wearing the armor of his father-kin, or going beneath the banner of the High King.  
  
"The Sindar are my mother-kin and always shall be, but I am Noldor also, adn owe my allegiance to Erenion Gil-galad. You would not begrudge me to set aside my oath to serve him...I would not ask the same of you."  
  
"No I would not ask you to do that. But to come into this house wearing that..."  
  
"You have lived among Noldor all these years, you said nothing, held no grudge, why now?"  
  
"You know the reason why my heart burns when I see that armor, and those faces poised for battle. You know I would not dare touch such a thing, or ride beneath any banner of theirs even if it be Gil-galad's. I am not angry at you, for you were not there, their blood is not on your hands. I am fearful, that I will loose you."  
  
"In these times such a thing is expected..."  
  
"But I will not suffer to see my only friend, only as a corpse being brought back mutilated by the orc or troll in my last eye sight of him."  
  
"You stay because of your wish, I go because of mine. You wish to remain here behind the walls..."  
  
"Do you doubt my courage friend? Do you think I would rather stay here in the havens, while my Lord is out there, and all instinct tells me to go defend him who my family defended long ago. But to do that would mean marching under Noldor banner, and that I will not do."  
  
"You are letting your pride diminish your wishes my friend. If the only way to your wish is to lay low your pride then is not that way best? You say you do not wish to be sundered from me, knowing I may die with no words between us, yet that is what your pride is doing now. Ride with me...and fear no more that we will be sundered by death unknown. If death take either of us it will be at one another's side."  
  
"You ask me to do something that I cannot...not for pride or for love, I cannot march beneath the banner of a Noldor, I would disgrace my honor, if not to others then to myself."  
  
"Then this fate is left to us... I will not leave you without being blessed by the only family I know...Would you begrudge me this last parting in peace?"  
  
Celebrin looked into the eyes of his friend and knew then what he must do, though it bring him sorrow to do so.  
  
"I told you many years ago, that I would not be parted from you... to that I hold true."  
  
Alphindil knew only joy to hear that this was one parting he did not have to endure; not realizing the sorrowful eyes of his friend, he embraced him and laughed.  
  
"I and my battalion leave at three hours to noon, meet me by the fountain where we ate dinner together last night."  
  
And with that he left the House towards the stables to retrieve his friend's horse and his own. Celebrin left behind by his friend, swallowed the lump in his throat and saw the sword of his father Lin-gladaear, laying upon the bed, the sight of which only made the lump larger. In anger at his situation he yelled at it as if replying to a scolding,  
  
"I did not bow down then, I shall not bow down now!," and with that he strided out of the room in haste. 


	5. Before the Storm

Alphindil waited until the very last of the hour before untying his horse and joining the end of the battalion, he saw no one come for the friend of his horse, or bring him word of Celebrin's decision. He was angry, yet more sorrowful that he had hoped foolishly for his friend to join him beneath the banner of Erenion Gil-galad. He sent the horse away with a page and rode out with the last battalion not looking back to stop himself from crying, knowing he had no farewell with his friend and there was no time to do so now, for the fires of the battle were already within the sight of the great army. He felt a sense of foreboding; for in truth this was the first time he had not been at Celebrin's side in battle, for at those times they were only skirmishes. His heart and spirit fell, leaving him knowing he would die that day, without a farewell, or a last look upon his dearest friend, who was more than family to him. One of his comrades who knew of their friendship spoke rather proudly, though meaning to comfort him,

"Gaereledh, be comforted to know he is behind safe walls, and does not go to certain doom. Such large battles are best fought by the Noldor, rather than the Dark-elves, they know not how to fight in such ways."

" Hold still your tongue my friend, or do you not remember how the Noldor relied on their help when our doom was fully wrought."

These words came from Alphindil as quickly as he had that angered thought. He would have said more but a cloaked figure spoke before he had the chance to,

"Be at peace Soldier of Erenion, your friend needs no defending. For he is here to defend himself."

The cloaked figure of Celebrin removed his hood and revealed his face hale and dark, prepared for battle, his eyes made him look fey as one going to death, yet his features were softened by a wiry smile upon his face.

" As for you Noldo, do not easily forget how you ran from me and my band of riders when you tried to attack the refugees of Balar. Or is it possible that one of the Noldor so easily forgot the dreaded sickle of Doriath."

And it was then that the others in the line beheld the scar on the right side of Celebrin's face, forming a tear-shaped sickle upon his face that now grew dreadful in the light of his eyes and a dark twilight gem shone on his breast that did not show the gilded armor of the army of Gil-galad but rather the light armor the sea-folk wore, which was a shirt of mail that covered a jerkin and light boots for riding. Such attire was normally worn in sea battles, of which were few, since neither Morgoth nor Sauron used a naval force greatly. While this attire might have seemed inappropriate for grand scale battle, Celebrin made up for it in his demeanor and fey mood. The others were quickly silenced, and those who indeed remembered the attack upon the refugees lowered their heads. The two companions slowed their pace to take private conversation.

"I thought you remained behind in Mithlond, I thought little of you, forgive me."

"There is no need for forgiveness my friend, I do not ride beneath the banner of Erenion this day, to that I hold true, as you can see from my own armor."

"And for that I now wish that you had stayed in Mithlond, for now my thoughts will become true, one of us will perish this day. I will not loose you so easily...return to Mithlond while there still is time."

" That I cannot do...I have been set free of the service of Cirdan, for now it seems. And to return would mean more dishonor than leaving ever did."

"Then you have become a piriah in the eyes of your own people for my sake, that I cannot bear."

"I am not welcome there now, this is true, though I promised to my kin that I would lend my services to Celeborn of Doriath only, and that is where I ride now. Not with you beneath the banner, but with you on my way to my Lord."

"Then you have found a way around this ill fate, as I suspected you would. And I am glad for it, though still fearful for your life."

"Do not be, have more confidence in our skill than what you are putting in, we are together at the very least, be glad in that for now."

Alphindil knew his friend well enough to know when he wished to no longer despair, nor to think of the future which now was apparent to all as grim. They marched towards distant fires that burned brighter as the day aged, and they eastern wind though chill brought with it blinding heat, that which tired the eyes of all that rode on that road. Celebrin smelled the burning of wood and cursed beneath his breath, for he knew this burning was out of malice and hatred, and the wind of heat only made his blood boil the more. His breathe quickened and his eyes grew more filled with rage, and they shoe bright as two stars with the sinking of the sun.

It was not until the ending of three days and nights that the first signs of an advancing army were seen, for the Legion of Mithlond reached the very borders of the burning wood where fire began to eat away at the forest that lay East of the Havens. Yet beyond that many miles were seen of burnt land, indeed as far as the eyes of the elves could reach. In their hearts now all were loathe to behold such precious and ancient wood defiled and burnt to nothing but grass and tree stump a land of beautiful grassland and river valley turned to nothing but a rocky desert land that held no hope for life. The ashes let loose streams of smoke and then flew west mournfully, as if the very tears of Arda reached out to the legion, pleading for them to save it's fragile beauty. The hearts of all beneath the banner of Gil-galad burned with the woods and they sought out the culprits of such crime and malice. And they found them; a band of some thousand orcs cutting the western edges of the forest that were not already burnt, or lighting trees that proved resistant to their first torches. They screamed in their accursed and uncouth tongue, shouting orders and beating upon any that lay killed, wanderers and travelers, who had not made the journey behind the walls of Mithlond. Then the general of the legion of Mithlond cried out to the band of orcs,

"Fear!! Foes of the woods and its keepers, vengance has come for thee!"

and the standard bearer let out the horn call of the attack that rung out and echoed among all the burning valley. As quickly as they had arrived the legion of Mithlond raced down in anger and hatred upon the band and the archers upon their steeds let loose arrows before them, and it shone as lightning shines before the onset of a storm. And caught off guard, the band of foes fled before the rushing storm of gold and blue, shimmering with stars upon their banners, and were hewn down or laid flat beneath the feet of the steeds. Yet the attack was rushed that day and out of the legion that left Mithlond that morning eight would not return to their homes, pierced by arrows or broken beneath the weight of their fallen steeds. After the band had fled over the eastern edge of the valley and into the east towards the sound of ongoing battle and the clash of steel reknewed the General called the host together and rallied them into their lines again, yet the garrison of Alphindil had lost it's valiant captain and were joined to the host of the General, who then noticed a warrior upon a white horse who did not wear the gold of the Noldorin host, nor did he wear the markings of the stars of Erenion, to this one he called out,

"Stranger, where is your armor, and your battalion."

To which the gray-cloaked warrior, covered in orc blood replied,

"I belong to no battalion of yours mighty General, though I now fight beside it, if only for a little while."

"I will have no unknown soldier, and one so lightly clad, fight in my host stranger, or die by my leading him into battle."

"You do not lead me General, nor does your King. I am sworn, no longer to any lord, and come by my free will, to guard that which I hold most dear."

The Unknown rider lifted his head and revealed the Sickle of Doriath, with the face of pale twilight in the beginnings of the world, upon which sat two stars filled with such fierce freedom that he looked as one with his fierce wild horse, whose mane flowed untamed in the wind. The sight of this rider showed doom in the eyes of the General; and in his prideful heart the Noldor found respect for the Teleri who now marched to certain doom and glory, to which he said,

"I shall not send you back to Mithlond, stranger, nor do I think you would return, but do not ride with that battalion, for you are not of it."

And with that he turned, yet the eyes of the twilit elf never left his mind, nor the look of shear doom written upon his face.

Alphindil witnessed this occur and was astonished to see such ferocity in the eyes of his friend, and in truth he was fearful of him and this doom that lay in him. The twain spoke no words to one another but rode behind the host and merely sat in one another's company, for what seemed like it would be their last moments. Silenced enveloped them until Alphindil spoke in a whisper,

"Mellon nin, these may be our last few moments together, and the doom of battle lies coldly upon my heart and I..."

His discourse was interrupted by the rising of Earindil in the sky; as they climbed over the high hill of that river valley that would descend into the borders of Eregion; and his friend of long years grasped his hand and held it tightly in his own. He then spoke in a voice hale and ancient, filled with so much memory and sorrow, yet valiant and filled with courage also,

"We now are upon the eve of battle, you and I, let us draw swords together, and never leave the other's side.", he then looked into his friend's hazel eyes and then said, "If you should fall I would not allow all the forces of Sauron to take what I hold most dear and I would fight until death itself take me to you in the halls of Mandos. Will you do the same for me?"

"I will."


	6. The Battle for Eregion

And with that the General called them into their charging lines and ordered all to prepare, for battle had come upon them sooner than they had hoped, and the siege of Eregion had advanced to its outer most border. In the midst stood Celeborn of Doriath and Elrond; and to the northwest of the battle, advanced the great host from Lindon and the northern marches of the land they called Eriador, led by Erenion Gil-galad. Celebrin and Alphindil waited anxiously for the call to the fray, they awaited the signal amidst the silence. The standard bearer watched the great host join their own on the slope of the great hill of the border.

Then in the darkness of the impending night a flash shone in the northwest, a great lamp was unveiled and could be seen by all- the signal had been given- the horns of the Noldor let out their cry and the lines of charging climbed the last leg of the mighty hills of Eregion and all eyes beheld the fray in the valley. The echoes of the horns called out the night and where there stood a host a great lamp was lit so that it seemed as if the stars themselves called them to battle. Then they raced after the charging generals and captains, and swords were drawn out in the twilit night.

Celebrin held aloft Lin-gladaear, and it shone an icy blue, yet was out shone by the star-lit face beneath it that cried out into the midst of the battle, and behind him came a golden light, holding forth his great bow and letting loose shards of lightning before the twilit warrior, so that any orc in their path, who turned his head in the fray to see the charging host, saw a fiercly lit star and a golden flash of thunder and then was silenced by an arrow or was hewn by a flashing sword or was trampled beneath the feet of two white steeds. The twain warriors rode headlong into the host of orcs, breaking the first onslaught and riding towards the midst of battle, yet seemed to have a desired target. The white steed of the silver twilight rose above the heads of the orcs and its rider held aloft a great horn made of shell and laced with bronze, it's sound called aloud to all Teleri, but one in particular heard it's melody, a silver-haired Lord, whose deep green and silver armor was covered in the blood of those foul creatures at his feet, and when he saw the sight he smiled and cried out to all around him,

"To me, hosts of Doriath lost, To me, elves of the world before the Sun, TO ME!!!"

And all who heard this cry cried out,

"To the last prince of the Sindar! To the Silver-lord!"

And around him gathered armed elves dressed in both gold and green, gray and silver too, and they charged forth to the call of the shell horn of Mithlond, and the twain warriors of gold and twilight met the many-hued host of Celeborn and drove back the forces of the dark land in the east, while the golden host of Erenion drove the forces of Angmar back to the frozen lands of the north, both of which were sorely decreased in might, though with much sacrifice and loss of many a valiant life, for on that day the General of the host of Mithlond fell, his last thought being the star-fired eyes of the sea-gray warrior and the scar upon his cheek, and a thought of hope renewed for the sundered lines of Eldar.

Though the battle it seemed had ended in victory that day, Eregion was utterly destroyed, and would not rise again to it's once former glory, for all had left the birthplace of the rings of power, and followed their lords to a place unseen. And Erenion Gil-galad, Elrond, and the Lord and Lady of Eregion met in the middle of the battle plain, sore with battle and covered in blood, and said their greetings beneath a tent's cover.

As for Celebrin and Alphindil they had no place in the councils of the Lords, though many called them the twin Spears of the Eldar, and cheered them and their courage. They retreated to a quiet stream near by that had, by some luck, not been tainted by orc or Eldarin blood. There they dressed each other's wounds, on Alphindil a tear upon his left leg, and broken ribs from the hammer of a troll. On Celebrin bruised hands and a dislocated arm, as well as a small gash upon his head.

"You are lucky," said Alphindil in jest, "that that spear only grazed your head and did not pierce it, or someone would have chastised your body for not wearing a helm."

"And you are lucky, the troll's attention was easily taken by my own slashing upon his hide from breaking the rest of your ribs."

"I thank you for that..."

"And I thank you for pulling me from the spear's path in time."

After they had washed and dressed their wounds they returned to the host that was already preparing to move, and was already tearing down the tent of the Lords and Lady. Celebrin quickly found a Sindar he met upon the battle field and asked him what had been the orders from the Lord Celeborn. To which the elf replied,

"The high orders from Erenion Gil-galad are to follow the host of Elrond Half-elven to a secret refuge, in haste and in secrecy; the northern forces return to Eriador, to regroup, and cover our tracks from the attack from Angmar. To you personally Twain Spears, the Lord Celeborn wishes to speak with you..."

The elf was interrupted by the call of the Noldorin horns and the sound of the golden hosts movement in the direction of the setting moon. He left them and returned to packing his belongings or rather what was left of them. Celebrin returned to his friend and repeated the news to him, then after hesitated before asking,

"Where now do you go, mellon nin, your road and mine seem to diverge now, for you know now what I must do to uphold my honor to my Teleri kin."

"Do not be so hasty to part, our roads lie together for a little while at least to this refuge of mystery, there I shall answer your question."

And they took their white steeds and rode into the host of Sindar and Noldor that were to follow Elrond. When they arrived there they saw then what years of sundering had accomplished, for on one side prepared a golden host, beneath a banner of white stars on a field of blue, Noldor from Mithlond, Lindon, and Eregion; and to the other side a host of gold, green, gray and silver beneath no banner, Sindar from Mithlond, and the scattered tribes who lived in the outskirts of Eregion. And in the gap between stood a Lady dressed in a white, red-stained gown, who wore a dark-steel breastplate and whose toussled golden hair shone in the night; beside her stood a tall elf Lord dressed in dark gray, green, and silver armor, and whose silver hair mingled with the gilded tresses of the lady beside him, shimmering like the two trees of myth and history. They too stood beside white horses and were prepared for journeying.

Celebrin rode with his friend closer to the Lord and Lady, and before them they dismounted and bowed down before them, and Celebrin spoke,

"Forgive me my Lord for interrupting your business, but one of your folk told me you wished to speak with me and my companion."

"Indeed Uialion, long years it has been since our eyes saw each other. As for my request of your presence, I had wished that you would ride beside me... as my standard bearer, for sadly my own hath perished in the first assault upon Eregion; would you accept this charge?"

Shocked Celebrin replied, "It...it would be my honor hir nin"

"Then in this I am glad, for I have longed to see a kinsman again, and for the banner of my house to be held by one of Uial's noble house again... Alas forgive my crude manners...Celebrin Elornion of the house of Uial, I wish to introduce you to my dearest wife, Galadriel of the house of Finarfin."

At this introduction, the Lady in white laughed with a voice of bells and wisdom, for indeed her eyes though joyful, held her ages within her, making the two companions feel as though they were children again, instead of grown Elven soldiers. She then spoke in a deep and melodious voice,

"My husband, you jest in the most in opportune moments, you know well enough that I know of Celebrin Tathirilion... Anann le u-gennin Uialion, el sila nan lu e-govaded vin. (I have not seen you for a long time son of Uial, a star shines on the occasion of our meeting)"

"Guren linna a chened le, hiril nin (My heart sings to see you, my lady)," Was all he managed to say to her in reply, for he had forgotten her beauty and her radiance after those long years he spent in Mithlond.

"It is said that the men of the Sindar tend to forget their manners, who is your valiant companion Tathirilion? For he is undoubtedly wordless."

It was true, Alphindil stood mesmerized by her beauty, her wisdom, her sight of all things. His eyes would not leave her gaze, or rater she would not leave his, and he felt her thought reaching into his, reading his thoughts and laughing at his flattery.

"My... my name is Gaereledh Alphindil, son of Oianar of the land of Gondolin, and the host of Turgon, and Brilmiriel, Lady of Vanyimar."

The Lady and Lord smiled and Celeborn asked,

"By what name shall we call you my son? For it seems you have as many as Elornion."

"My companion hath called me Alphindil when we met, that name I now hold dear."

Celeborn looked at Celebrin, smiled and said,

"So shall your name be with us."

When the host was ready to leave the four riders rode to meet Elrond Half-elven and another of silver hair beside him, who smiled when she saw the Lord and Lady, and addressed them as her parents. Then the host in the midst of the night rode into the dark forest, and disappeared into the mist.


	7. A Parting long expected

The Bruinen flowed from the side of the mountain and broke in melodious chorus, and the small cottages of Imladris began to rise as full fledged homes in the forest, intermingling the styles of different lands. And the nightingales sang their soft song in the evening light, singing songs learned from birth, by Melian the Queen of a forgotten realm. The scents of Evermind and sage mingled in the night air, releasing all from the worries of the day, dressing wounds with their healing scents, healing hurts in their joyous keeping back. All who dwelt there forgot the worries and the cares of what lay beyond its borders, all save for the guards, and the soldiers that slept uneasy, waiting for battle to resume...waiting for Sauron to strike against them yet again.

Celebrin stood upon a balcony, watching the river flow silently, undisturbed, in the midst of the growing land. This was different for him, different from the city he was used to in Mithlond, different yet familiar, more Sindar, more to his liking. The stars were not covered here, and he rejoiced in that, he had a Lord again, and he- oddly enough- rejoiced in that as well. He gently touched the emblem of Celeborn and Galadriel that was fastened to his silver-gray armor, which lay on his bed. In his robe, Celebrin felt the release of the day's watch leave him, the armor was heavy, he had not worn armor in a long time, full armor that is. His bones and muscles grew tired of holding it up, yet as he marched along the river, guarding this land it became easier to do. His green robe felt soft on his form, yet for some reason he felt cold, lonely was the more appropriate term. Then a knock upon his door repulsed that feeling away when the sound of a friendly voice entered his room, uninvited yet not unwelcome,

"How did your day fare my friend, Captain of Celeborn the tall and Galadriel?"

The mocking manner of his words, only endeared their reunion as they embraced; Alphindil had been away, called by Elrond Peredhel, with the rest of the contingent from Mithlond. It struck Celebrin odd that his friend should not be in the gilded armor of Erenion Gil-galad, but in clothes fair and washed.

"That question should be asked of you Alphindil. I expected you to return when I did from my patrols, yet something kept you no doubt. What are the words from Elrond Peredhel?"

To this his friend gave a slight sigh and held firm his friend's arms,

"The contingent from Mithlond has been ordered to return to Lindon, across plains already crawling with orcs and some other evil malice, unknown to any. We leave tomorrow morn, behind the train of Elrond."

"Then our dreaded parting must be suffered at long last Alphindil. I will not say I am glad at this, for it is evil to my heart. But you must go. I have my Lord and you have yours to defend."

Celebrin who had known no other companion than Alphindil was roth to hear this news, because it meant a parting he did not wish for, but knew would always come. Like any Sindar of his kind, his heart grew cold in defense of this true yet harsh news...it showed in the coolness of his voice and the bitter tone of his words and in the ice-cold expression on his face. Rather than suffer true emotion he froze behind this dark exterior, one that only his friend could endure for long, yet the elf in front of him apparently was not in the mood to accomidate his friend's idiosyncricies. With a sigh and weary voice he responded to the other's cold demeanor with the fire he inherited from his Noldorin kin,

"Why are you cold to me at this hour? Not but a few minutes ago you were glad to be with me... you are angry."

"Yes, but not at you... never at you. Only my self for bringing this upon us."

"Celebrin, our paths were destined in this way, there is nothing you could have done to prevent it, there is nothing I would have done. Even beloved couples must part ways in times like these."

"They are bound in more ways than we will ever know Alphindil. Such paths and partings are bitter to bear when one has known no other but the friend's he has, and they must part ways to paths uncertain."

"...I am tired mellon nin, too tired to say my farewell here, knowing I must convince you that what I do is of my free-will. Will you see me off tomorrow morn?"

"I will."

And with that he left the room of Celebrin, half expecting those to be the last words between them. His thoughts ran rampant with angry and selfish words of how his friend always shied away from uncomfortable situations and was wary of trusting others, especially of the Noldor, unfairly he thought. Such a mind had left Celebrin with one confidant, himself, and in that Alphindil cursed himself and his persistance to become friends with the Sinda who grew too cold for any other.

* * *

In the following morning, the host from Imladris stood gilded in their armor, the archers cloaked in blue inlayed with stars, the cavalry in green, and the main army in scarlet cloaks, beneath which shone their shining armor. And behind them stood the host of Mithlond, arrayed in similar fashion, though they stood behind the banner of the Ered Luin, rather than under that of the Half-elf, and once again in the rear of the leaving garrison sat Alphindil of Gondolin upon his white steed, affectionately named Turgon, though it was mare. He turned his face towards the group of elves bidding them farewells and fair journeys, in a fool's hope that his friend would come riding from the stables in his light gear to ride with them and return to Mithlond. But it was not so, for Celebrin did not even come to bid him safe journey. As he crossed the ford upon the river Bruinen, his heart remembered that despite his longings for the woods, Celebrin had remained with him in Mithlond. Forgetting all ties to his fellow Sinda, and enduring life with the proud Noldor under the rule of Erenion, something that was indeed hard to endure for a Sindar of Doriath. He wished to seek out his friend at that point yet, it could not be so, for they would part the garrison into secret paths, and none could return to Imladris, without leave from Elrond who was far ahead.

Yet before him he saw a rider upon a white horse as well, in silver gray armor, bearing a banner that bore a silver tree beneath a sky of stars. And the person in armor spoke to him in a familiar voice,

"It seems I was assigned to bid the last farewell to the Lord Elrond from the White lady and the Silver Lord...Forgive me for missing your departure."

"All is forgiven Celebrin, if you will bid me farewell now."

With a smile upon his face and laughter in his voice Celebrin rode towards his friend and took a place beside him. As they rode Celebrin extended his fisted hand in offering to his friend and into the cupped hand he let fall a deep blue stone that was cracked and broken, yet somewhat mended with a dark binding, set on a silver chain of mithril. This gift was known to Alphindil and before he spoke to try and persuade his friend to not give him such a treasured thing Celebrin spoke,

"I give the elf-stone of my mother so that you may have part of me with you...and know that I expect you to return it when all this evil is over."

And they embraced before the path of the army split into paths unknown, and at the cross-roads they said their last farewells and the banner of the Silver Lord and the White Lady passed back into the road to Imladris. And the gilded army parted ways and continued their road to the West, to bring aid to the host of Erenion Gil-galad and hope for the enemies of Sauron the Deceiver.


	8. The Coming of the Sun

Years passed into years, and the days numbered far to become uncounted in the eyes of Imladris. Battles waged and blood spilt upon the fields and valleys of Lindon, Eriador and even unto the riverbanks of the Brunien. Yet, by some unknown fate or fortune, Imladris remained hidden from the reach of Sauron, and by the vigilance of Elrond and Celeborn the valley prospered and became a place of beauty in a time when fires ravaged the world around and the forests of old burned into grasslands. The news brought by couriers bordered on joy and sadness, both of victory and defeat, and rumor grew of the might of Numenor. Joy spread throughout the land that the Edain had at long last come to the aid of the Eldar, their friends of old, from their island nation far in the west of this world. Many rejoiced at this long-awaited alliance, all save for one who sat amid the joy holding thoughts of darkness and doubt. He sat in this way, because despite the joyous news of ally forces, no news reached him of one soldier in all the host of Gil-galad.

His thoughts were dark, and his mind reached into the mists of time and space, using all that was gifted to him in terms of mental ability. Yet to his dismay, nothing came of it, he never learned how to harness the gifts of his maternal line, nor the usages of his kind's abilities. His gifts were subtle and less noble in their power, such things he knew how to do were due to learning by the hands of others. He tended the wounded and dying who were brought in from the battles, though he wished to fight alongside the other soldiers and prove to them he was no mere standard bearer who doted upon his lord as a child does his father. Yet Celeborn's charge was to lead Imladris while Elrond was away, a duty he himself had come to loathe rather than waiting idly by; and Celebrin's duty was to remain with him. So he took to bandaging the wounded, using well the skills he learned from the Nandor in their arts of healing. This at the very least gave him the opportunity to hear of the goings on the battle field before it was made public knowledge. The last news he heard of his friend came from a Noldor wounded, who cried out caressing a leg that seemed to be nothing but bone and blood. In these screams he heard only,

"Gaereledh, Gaereledh is out there still, you must go to him!! He needs you!!"

And then he was silenced, by a sharp pain in the place where his leg used to be. He heard no more from that gilded soldier, nor the day after, nor would he hear anything else, for the wounded soldier died that night, with no words upon his lips. This elf Celebrin knew well, for he was of Mithlond, his name was Estelion, indeed he was one of they who praised the coming of the Twain Spears in the last battle for Eregion.

That was two weeks ago, the battle long ended, yet no news came of the death toll, nor were any wounded brought to Imladris after. It took all Celebrin was to remain and hold true to his oath and promise to Celeborn, yet after the coming of the wounded Estelion, Celebrin began to feel despair upon his heart, as his hope truely died with the son of hope.

And he sat upon a small pavilion looking out at the river flowing beneath the houses of Imladris and he felt as if he was at the very end of the world. And his thoughts spoke to him _This must be how being in Valinor feels, safe behind closed doors, while others die and fall outside..._

"_I believed that at first...trapped behind walls, too safe to truly LIVE."_

This ancient voice entered his mind and he turned his head to see where it came from, only to see a vision of white light, and a figure crowned in golden tresses.

"My lady, forgive me...you frightened me."

"_This is no time to speak of such matters aloud Tathirilion, a shadow falls before the storm, even the wise cannot see whether darkness looms ahead, or the blazing dawn."_

He knew she spoke the truth, even there in the safe borders of Hidden Imladris, shadow and malice pushed forth and covered the hearts of all, so much so that none would dare speak of anything dooming aloud, but only remained cheerful and optimistic in spoken word.

"_Even you hiril nin? Even you cannot see the end of the storm?"_

"_This is the time of breath before the plunge...Do you feel trapped here Tathirilion? Has your sword arm become too tired of caring for the sick and dying?"_

"_If it be your will hiril nin, may I speak plainly with you."_

"_I encourage it... you are after all my Lord's personal esquire and standard bearer."_

"_It is not that I grow weary of being a healer, I know it is most needed now than arms to battle with. It is merely staying here trapped, as you say, knowing that all I hold dear is failing, and I can do nothing to stop it."_

"_Do you wish to leave our service young one? And protect that which you hold most dear, even if it mean dying in the process?"_

"_I have sworn to be loyal to my lord Celeborn, and to that I hold, until he release me."_

"_Oaths are dangerous things Tathirilion, they can mean doing things...we never wished to do. Do you question you valor, staying here in safe walls, doing, as you say what is needed?"_

"_I...Yes, to be truthful I do feel my bow arm tire some. But it is not my valor that worries me...In many things I am uncertain."_

"_What does your heart tell you?"_

"_It wants me to be positive and know that he is well...But a shadow lingers there..."_

"_What does it tell you, forget the mind and its polaric ways. What do you feel..."_

Celebrin closed his eyes, trying to feel what his heart truly said to him, trying to forget that it could say there was nothing more for him in Middle Earth, and that all close to him had passed to the Undying lands by way of Mando's halls.

"_I feel.."_

Just then a trumpet blasted forth from the western sky and cries of joy were heard in Imladris. Everywhere cries spoke out:

"Praise the Valar!!"

"Numenor has come!"

"Hail friends of the West, long sundered by the seas!!!"

"Hail the coming of the Sun!"

Both Lady and standard-bearer strided to the western corridors, where stood at the door three tall elven lords, one with hair of brilliant silver and the others shimmered darkly. Celeborn embraced the Lord Elrond and the King Erenion, shouting out in joy,

"Praise these days that are ours for the time has long come for hope to return to our hearts."

In the merriment the Lady leaned into Celebrin and spoke in a whisper,

"My Lord will soon need his standard-bearer to welcome the host of men and eldar in the Rhudaur, there I believe you will find the end of your questions."

She gave him a silent smile and went foward to the side of her husband, and greeted also the Lords Elrond and Erenion.

Celebrin rode behind his Lord and Lady, shimmering darkly in his gray armor, the wind blowing his hair along with the banner he bore in mysterious and wandering ways; the clouds dispersed revealing the evening sun leaving the sky heading toward the Undying Lands and Numenor. It surprised him how the short the journey out of the woods had become as they neared the river valley just outside of Imladris called Rhudaur. As they crossed the river Bruinen they appeared as a company from the Elder days, arrayed in glowing light, shrouded in mist and glory. Though the sun began to fall, another light entered the valley of Bruinen, a light from the east, four golden, one white gold and two of silver. Before them rejoiced two hosts arrayed in different manner, one gold and singing in fair voices of victory in wars long ago, the other arrayed in a different manner than any had seen, for their armor shined forth as polished steel. And their helms were fashioned to reveal wings of gold and bronze. Some among them bore a different armor than their comrades of shining steel. Their armor blazed as golden fire, more brilliant than the gilded armor of Gil-galad, yet in someway less beautiful and more for show than actual value. These men were tall, and their hair was a mixture of dark and fair, and their beards were quite full, though some among them would have been fresh out of adolescence.

To Celebrin he favored those arrayed in silver-like steel rather than the golden armor of proud show, for they seemed to him more like the men he had once known in the elder land, Beren and Tuor. The others were proud and seemed unhappy to be in the presence of the Eldar, showing less respect for the Lords of the Noldor and Sindar than they who were arrayed in cool shimmering steel. They were quick to leave, rejoicing in their own victory rather than in the victory shared by the Eldar, and despite the respect required for allies long sundered, some left south upon their steeds, leaving their steel clad comrades to pick up the pieces of a propriety that had been broken. Celeborn's face firmed at this obvious lack of respect, he had never truly enjoyed the company of men, but had learned to respect them in their shared alliances. He spoke to Celebrin, who at this time sat beside him upon his white steed Mithgaer,

"Such behavior I did not expect, some shadow lies on them, I know it well, the shadow of pride."

The Lords rode to a tent prepared for them and there dined with the lords from Numenor, men tall and hale, some with eyes of gray and clad in silver and steel. Others clad in gold; they bore proud and stern faces, obviously not wishing to remain, but for propriety's sake did so. Celebrin waited upon his lord and lady, bringing them food and drink, yet his thoughts ever ran to the soldiers who ate and drank outside, beneath the stars, laughing of matters that people who were not lords could understand and laugh about. He was one of them, he was not too high in the stature of lords to know fully the life they led, he was one of "the people" as they were called. His family always was a family of stewards and servants, craftsmen and court, the ways of all different statuses of the Eldar ran through him; and he excelled at most of them.

The white lady watched him standing at the opening of the tent, firm and attentive, yet she could tell his mind lay elsewhere and his eyes wandered always between the outside and the table. She leaned toward her husband, and whispered into his ear. He turned his head toward the opening in a manner that did not draw attention and smiled; with a nod of his head and a wave of his hand he beckoned forth his standard-bearer.

"Elornion, I and my Lady have no need of you at the present moment, those present here must speak at length of matters we do not wish to trouble our servants with. Seek what food is available and I give you leave to eat where you wish... but be near, I will have need of you at some point this night."

Celebrin bowed and quickly exited, realizing none of the other servants left at that moment as he had, but it mattered little to him; with desperate heart and anxious spirit he sought the host of Erenion from Mithlond.

_I would like to thank Elfique for your comments and praises, thank you, oh and the great Marnie for allowing me to use some of her imagery in another tale of Celebrin that will come later. _


	9. Union of the Two Spears

_Elfique: Yeah I liked writing that line, it seemed to fit for Galadriel to say it, considering her history, I hoped someone would get that._

* * *

The camps were scattered and the tents of the generals were filled with merriment; surrounding the fires were many weary and joyful soldiers who would watch Celebrin pass by as only a brief shadow. At long last through the masses and the fires he discerned the blue and gray banner of Mithlond, waving in the wind; waxing and waning in the starlight. It's lines creating waves upon it, flowing this way and that; and above it stood the banner of Erenion Gil-galad, silver stars upon a blue ground, shining and shimmering amidst the fires surrounding. There many recognized him and in their merriment- some of it drunken- many greeted him warmly, embracing him and pushing him towards the fire, where sat a great number of them and a spread of cheeses and breads. These actions took him by surprise, as he had never been warmly greeted by such as these in all his life; being greeted as an old friend now disturbed him until he asked one who gave him time to speak before closing their greeting.

"My comrade, why is it that you greet me so, when I have not been with you in battle, as an old friend who indeed fought beside you to see these days."

"My friend, did you not think your deeds in the healing houses of Imladris went unnoticed? Or unwelcome. Many here you healed by your arts, though you do not remember us as we passed in and out of that blessed place. Do not let the death of Estelion weigh heavily upon you, for you saved many others besides."

And with that he was turned to the inside of the large garrison, and he stood before the fire where sat an armor-clad lieutenant, hooded and who sat beside a richly decorated sword, laid upon the seat beside him.

"Mae Govannen healer of Imladris, I have heard much report of you and how you saved the lives of my men."

To Celebrin this voice was familiar, yet more aged, more hale than he had known it at first; it was the voice one who had seen much war and had learned much of the art of war. To this greeting he responded,

"I thank you as well Lieutenant of Mithlond, for keeping the borders of the hidden valley safe from enemy fires and hosts of dark evil."

And in the midst of all that stood or sat around them the two embraced one another, forgetting long sundering, and their friendship was rekindled and blazed again as the fire before them. They sat throughout the night in the midst of all those soldiers, reveling in the stories of victory, and listening intently and somberly when tales were told of the battles won with much loss of valorous life. The evening began to wane and many that were most weary began to drift to sleep, silencing the conversations around; many that remained awake were mostly the Sindar who fought beneath the banner of Erenion, watching the stars now that they had the time to enjoy them again. The two companions sat before the dying fire, speaking of all that had happened. Though Celebrin found himself speaking more of the steady building of Imladris, than he heard of the rise of his friend in the ranks among the Eldar. This happened to be because whenever he was asked of battles or his goings, a dark shadow would cover his face, a fear of recalling some deep memory of grief and sorrow. This effect was so great upon him that he spoke little of it and very briefly at that, yet his friend did not press him further, for he knew why nothing was elaborated upon; such were the consequences of war, memories that would not leave, of blood and fire, bone and death. When all had gone to sleep and the fires were quiet the two companions walked along the open pathways, as they had done in more peaceful times, in Mithlond, when the shadow of the east did not weigh them down. They did not speak for between them no words needed to be uttered, the pressence of one another was enough for them to merely enjoy the others company. At length Celebrin spoke, with a slight jest recalling older times,

"It is hard for me to see you in such a position Lieutenant, yet such a thing was expected for so great a warrior."

Yet unlike the jests before, his friend did not reciprocate with a jest of his own instead he took a deep breath and sighed,

"I do not wear this position proudly, for I buy it with the purchase of my own soul."

With an imploring look upon his face Celebrin stopped their walking and stood before his friend, speaking softly he said,

"What evil, that our greeting cannot heal, weighs upon your shoulders now, mellon nin?"

"One that no greeting can heal save for time and peace... and much joy long sought for."

"Share with me this secret of your burdened heart, so that I may know what troubles you so...Have we not always been able to do so?"

They sat upon a fallen tree that had withered had fallen many years ago, beside a creek that fled into the river nearby. Alphindil seemed heavy with grief, as if he had lost another of his family, but at length he spoke at last, his voice heavy with sorrow, seeming to be on the breaking point of crying,

"In one of the battles our garrison had lost our only lieutenant, we were ordered to attack from behind...yet the Enemy could not be surprised so easily. They were waiting for us in the dark...they were so quiet, almost as shadows of the world. A cold came upon me, a freezing of my very soul, a terror I could not comprehend, only so much that I was reminded of the Fall, and the terror that lay in the wake of the Balrog. Then they struck, they were stronger than orcs, their cries filled the air and their swords' bite was fierce and cold. Many feel beside me, I was covered in the blood of my own people, I felt dispare begin to take me, I tired of life then, my body began to quake. Then I saw a light shine beneath my eye sight, a twinkle of a little star of brilliant blue, hope returned to me at least enough to return me to my feet and call all my scattered companions to me. It took all that night, the battle beyond us was over; at the rising of the sun we were victorious then. One would normally be joyous at our victory, yet the light of the sun revealed to us the true evil of the Enemy. Our foes were not orcs blindly following hatred and evil, before us lay many men, young men whose dark skin and hair reminded me of your own. They were children, only children...who had families, lives of their own, before the shadow came upon them. Their clothing was beautiful, their voices saying prayers to some unknown fate was said in a beautiful tongue that had no remenance of the black speech, nor did my heart feel that they called to the Enemy in their prayer, but something else. Though I knew them to be evil in some way, I could not bring myself to hate them, but pity them that they would never return home. Such beautiful beings, could not have been wrought in the malice of the Enemy."

Alphindil began to weep uncontrollably; remembering the beauty of those youths overcame his heart, tears streamed down his face as the many rivers of Ossiriand, and it broke the heart of his friend to see him in such a state. Celebrin guided his friend to a secluded grove where none could see them, save for the owls of the trees and the eyes of the river. Wiping the tears of his friend Celebrin comforted him saying,

"Their deaths were not of your making, sad though it may be would you rather have allowed them to slay you, causing your own people to weep for their sons, husbands and fathers? The malice of the Enemy is far reaching, it has cursed all bonds that should have been made in friendship."

And the two remained locked in one another's arms until the sobs were quieted, and they contained their composure. Alphindil looked in tot eh eyes of his friend and smiled,

"How I have missed you. When I was a child, newly orphaned you held me as you did now, comforting me even though you yourself were naught but ten years older than I."

"And I have missed you, Lieutenant of Mithlond."


	10. In the Midst of Darkness

_Elfique: Thanks for the comment, To be honest I didn't know how some might take an elf's position on the people under Sauron's control. I'm an idealist I guess to think not all men are inherently evil... Hope you like this next chapter_

They were soon walking away from the grove when from a distance Celebrin espied the horses of Celeborn and Galadriel being brought from the makeshift stables by the river. With little forethought they ran to the tent that was set upon a high mound, a tent that seemed as grand as a king's hall made of stone. In haste and in anger the Lord Celeborn appeared, cursing it seems beneath his breath. Celebrin felt guilty for not being at his lord's side when he apparently needed him; in an almost thoughtless motion he bent to his knees and in a gasping voice spoke out,

"My lord forgive me for not being at your call when as it so appears you needed my services as your standard bearer."

Celeborn, at the quick and sudden action, was startled to have first acted in anger, raising a hand at the elf, yet seeing him drop to his knees, feeling naught but shame, softened the Sinda's heart. Yet anger was still full upon him, showing no comfort in his voice, he spoke coldly and rushed,

"Your absence is not what caused my anger Elornion, but another's action, indeed I say one of complete and utter stupidity. Time presses us to ride to Mithlond tonight, a council has been called and messengers sent. Get your horse...time will not wait for you."

And with that Celeborn and Alphindil ran to the open fields where their own two white steeds grazed in the meadows, rekindling their long lost friendship. With a whistle both silver white steeds ran as two stars in the dusk that shine the greatest of all the sky. Though in a rush and hurry Celebrin noticed his friend preparing for riding, and not remembering if he ever left his side that night he asked him,

"Alphindil, why do you prepare for riding, it is I that have been called to ride, not you."

"Though it may seem that my orders were to remain, my garrison had already left this valley for home, I remained to follow you, to that I hold, even though the destination be not Imladris."

"Then this not a parting in haste, but a riding as we did once long ago."

And though that moment seemed to all to be dire and serious, they laughed then and embraced each other once again. Catching up the banner of Celeborn and Galadriel they joined the silver lord and lady whose faces were not joyous but stern and unmoving. Even the Lord Elrond and Erenion Gil-galad had faces of stern and noble nature. The mood of the twain was subsided and in duty and honor they parted, for Alphindil could not ride among the Lords this night, for he was no standard bearer. And with a call the small band of Lords and Ladies rode at great speed across the eastern border of the valley and passed into Eriador.

And that night and the next, with seldom rest in between, brought them to a small hill country, just outside the borders of Mithlond and Forlindon. Such a journey was possible for none of the riders had a horse that had been bred in mortal lands. Of some among them it was said were bred in the country of the undying lands and knew its virtue and long stamina. Such was the urgency needed, and such the great steeds of the lords gave at times of urgency. The riders were permitted to rest for the night in that comely and wholesome hill country, the two friends found one another again by the virtue of their befriended steeds, yet their small reunion was brief as the Lord Celeborn had need to speak with his standard bearer.

The Lord Celeborn's face was ridden with worry and fatigue, it was obvious to his servant that his mind had searched paths never trodden, never attempted until that moment. Celebrin wondered why his master would choose to do such a thing, to attempt something he had not the skill, or even the gift to do. This fatigue was apparently the subject of the aside,

"Elornion, my thoughts have been dark as of late, I see by your eyes this is clear to you as it was to my wife. I tell you this now so that you may know the peril all Middle Earth is placed in at this very moment. We ride now to Mithlond to take council with Cirdan the Shipwright and your kin, though victory seem near for us, it may be the last one we will ever face in this long-defeat. The race of Numenor has become deadly proud, and a shadow I have not seen since the Elder days lies about them. This was the cause for my anger that night of our hasty departure; though Sauron seem defeated in the North the Numenoreans have had a greater victory in the south. They have captured the Lord of Deceit himself... While many might become joyful in this, I and my Lady and my fellow Lords know in truth what has happened. As the journey carried us here their minds reached their gaze into the south even as they rode, mine went with them in part. Yet I could see a red flame from afar, a flame that looked as if the very skies bled, yet their mind kept on while mine in its weaker untrained form remained fixed as it would seem seeing the bleeding sky. I feared it, Elornion, I feared this malice, yet I would not allow the others to be found, for their thought it would seem went heedlessly into the burning sky, not noticing the peril that lay about them. In my fear I strained my thought and my sight, and before me saw a great and terrible eye that ripped the whole sky, burning it, and a laugh, a malicious and terrifying laugh, it pierced my mind and I seemed open to all attack, weak and defenseless against it. It took all I had to cloak my self again. The others were weary, as I am now, that is the reason we rest now..."

"Hir nin, why is it that you tell me this?"

"Because Elornion, we come to a time when I and my Lady will need you more than ever...My lady seeks the paths to the unguarded east, and you of all the kin that I will trust know the Nandor better than any that remain at my side...I ask for your help."

"It is my duty, Lord, to serve you in any way you wish, I will do as you ask."

"Then do this and I will be in debt with you and hundred times more, once for coming to my side in the sack of Doriath, and another for this. I thank you Elornion."

Celeborn left his side and walked wearily to the glade where the White Lady of the Golden hair sat in deep and perilous thought, she did not heed his coming, but when he held her hand she turned her eyes to him, and a soft smile she gave, yet quickly became cold to him and all others.

Celebrin returned to his friend who sat beneath a small tree that did not seem to have known many years. He sat by his side and rejoiced in the rest they shared together, in silence they sat, drinking from their skins, forgetting the peril they must ride beneath, for it seemed to them that time had slowed. At long last Alphindil spoke regarding a lone tree standing upon a hill, in fact what seemed to be the tallest hill in the entire countryside,

"It is a marvelous thing that such a delicate creature can survive by its own self, upon so high a place among its kin. It seems to me it will be a place of great importance, in the days to come..."

"When did you gain foresight and not speak to me about it?"

"It is not foresight, so much as a feeling I have, I feel that from where we sit now will rise something grand, something unlooked for in these days when hope fails us, and all minds are filled with shadow."

"I know not the future of these times, nor do I wish to know them, for me it is easier to accept the present with a future unknown, than to accept an obscure vision of a future I know not whether I will take part in."

"Then let us know the present, here where we have no lords to keep us apart again."

And the two stayed and laughed, and sung, of things long past; Celebrin would play a flute he carried with him always, made of opal and a many hued shell, whose low and deeply melodious tunes mirrored the very ocean; and his companion would play upon a harp of blessed wood, carved in the manner of the Nandor of Doriath, and its notes would reach the height of the mountains. Together their voices delves deep into the depths of thought, and flew above the skies and stars until it reached the place of dreams. And upon them came other pages and standard bearers, who sat and listened to the entwined voices that took their thoughts to places unseen, and whose rhythms danced as elvish dancers around the fires of the harvest greeting.

Yet this tune was not isolated to the servants for the Masters heard them as well, and two in particular, a Golden Lady and her Silver Lord, remembered two voices and melodies that mirrored the sea and woods as the two did now, two ancient voices whose melodies flew with them after death and fire, to the very halls of Mandos. The Lady spoe to her Lord within a thought that they both were bound,

"He sings as his father did long ago, with a voice of the ocean fair and deep."

To which the silver-haired lord replied, loving the woods more than the sea,

"The two are opposites as his parents were once, he bears the voice of the ocean yet the heart of the woods, and the other bears the voice of the wood and the heart of the sea. I fear for him, my love, I fear that such a beautiful melody will never last even as the former did in the halls of Thingol. I fear it will end in sorrow."

"He is joyous now, let him know only that which makes him joyful.'

And night crept upon them and all slept beneath the light of the waxing moon. And the two singers lay together beneath the tree that seemed strengthened against the times that were to come, a tree whose end would not come for another age in time


	11. Return to Mithlond

_Elfique: thanks for the critiques, you seem to be my greatest fan...lol...my only one at that, thank you. _

The next morning brought a hastened morning meal, consisting mainly of the last provisions for food that the company had; the journey to Mithlond was a day ahead of them on foot, on horse severally shorter than that. They would reach Mithlond within the hours of sunlight; the messengers sent one hour before the race to the shores of Lindon would have reached the city by the peak of last night, bringing news of the growing doubt to Cirdan, who alone could stay the Numenoreans from leaving Middle Earth without council. Celebrin prepared his Lord and Lady as his duty demanded, yet he did not begrudge it, for he alone of all the servants, he thought, had the most "Sindar" of the Lords, a man who above all else cherished doing most errands on his own, enjoying the work of his own hands. Celebrin took up his banner staff, and to it tied the banner of Celeborn and Galadriel; in his motions he noticed how similar and yet different the banner was to the designs of both the Sindar and the Noldor, to him it seemed to be a memory of long ago, the banners of the Quendi, before the first Great Sundering, it saddened him to know that many who would remember such things, had passed on into memory and legend.

"You sing as your father did long ago Tathirilion, did he teach you that song?"

In broken thought he turned to see before him a tall and strong woman dressed in a white riding gown, who, despite being covered with dirt and grass, shone radiantly in the bright sun.

"My...my father taught me many things before he...but that song was taught to me by my foster mother in Mithlond, she went by the name of Liriel, you knew her years ago."

"Ah yes, the daughter of Aforellon, how does she fair in these times."

Silence took him before he answered, he caused her much pain as a youth, pain she did not deserve. She alone took him in when others would not dare to, and remained with him until he properly grew out of childhood. Erasing the memory he said rather coldly, as cold as a servant can be with his mistress,

"To be honest my Lady, I know not, she left these shores long ago, in days of peace I am glad to say...If I may speak freely with you..."

"I gave you that right in Imladris Tathirilion, speak as you wish."

"Why, of all your husbands servants, do you speak with me so...informally? I am no lord, with whom you normally speak with, of matters in your own privacy. I am your servant."

The lady did not seem hurt or even questioned his reaction, she merely sat as one aged with many years of wisdom in her eyes. Yet deep inside she seemed as normal as he, no grand bearer of a ring of power, or a lady bred of high and kingly bloodlines. Instead she was as Celeborn was, not far and distant as Erenion seemed, not locked in a castle away from all life. Despite being a Noldo, she seemed almost Sindar.

"Your mother and I were friends Tathirilion, and she was a servant as well. I learned something from your people I hope I will never forget; the smallest of people, can topple the mightiest walls, it is not upon the backs of kings that kingdoms are made, but by the hands of its humblest inhabitants. In speaking with you, I remember that which Melian herself taught me. Does that answer your question?"

"Yes, thank you."

Alphindil knelt by the tree beneath which he slept the night before, picking up the harp of the Nandor, and placing it almost reverently into his bag, wishing it well on the journey until it came forth from its abode to sing again. He heard the crack of leaves behind him and turned his head to see a tall figure dressed in gilded armor that shone a golden light in the new dawn, the figure looked hale and beautiful, and his gray eyes shimmered as thunder clouds in the light of lightning. Though he looked old, Elrond the half-elven was several decades younger than the one kneeling before him, but this seemed a little matter, for Elrond had the blood of Kings in him, the blood of both cultures, thought the outward bearing of a Noldo. He held in his hand a broad leaf that had fallen from the tree above them, feeling how easily it broke beneath his hand he said solemnly,

"Fall comes early this year, but that is no surprise, the earth has felt many wounds, it must heal before the next spring, and be strong enough for what is to come."

"And what is to come, my general?"

"Something that I will not burden your heart with my lieutenant... I come to ask you a question...If you will answer it."

"I will, to the best of my ability."

"If all we do is brought to ruin, yet before this end we experience some joy and happiness, where will your heart abide even though it is perilous in the end? Would you seek to prepare for the coming end, in hope that you may have a chance to prevent it? Or would you seek the little bit of happiness you know you will have, even though it will be brought to ruin nonetheless, a ruin you know will come?"

"May I speak freely sir?"

"You may."

"If I were to know the peril before me, and know that all that I had worked for would be brought to nothing, I would seek to find what happiness I can...before the end. For if the legends are true, then we will find that happiness again, in lands of peace, behind a veil of gray. Yet if hope were to remain, that, if by denying this happiness for a little while, I may have a chance to protect all that I cherish and give it a hope to endure the test of ruin, then I would stay this happiness, in hopes that I would not need to die to find it again."

"I knew this answer would be so perilous, yet it has given me clarity. I thank you Gaereledh."

"My General...she loves you, she will wait if she but knows of your thoughts."

And with that Elrond left the company of the lieutenant, seeming to have had a weight lifted off of his shoulders. And Alphindil smiled to see so high a Lord, have questions so similar to his own; he soon finished packing and then taking his horse joined the troop of travelers once again, smiling to Celebrin who looked, uncommonly stern, comically stern, attempting to remain in the mind of duty. The smile of his friend made Celebrin laugh inside, realizing how tense he looked, he eased his shoulders and rang forth the call to ride, and with a call to his steed he followed the Lady Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn into the west, with the rising sun at his back. And for the entire day the horses of the company never tired, for a shadow returned to their hearts, as the song of the two singers was placed into memory and rest revived their tired bones. And urgency returned to guide them down the paths of the road to the valley and coasts of Lindon, where only what seemed like a small span of time ago, the sea was not the sight one saw when passing the Ered Luin, but the river valleys of Ossiriand. And where once the immortal sea was only a memory and a song of a distant thing, far to the west, a place where rivers went and never returned. Now it was a place where rivers began at the mountains and ended in the sea in one day of travel. Now it was no longer a river valley, but the carved coastline where crashing waves and rolling water found land again, where the beauty and peril of the sea was everyday life, and where Cirdan the Shipwright had his haven fair and strong.

Before them the company saw the building of two towers of white, made of what looked like marble and stone from the coast, that had been strengthened by the crashing sea. Made in the fashion of the watchtowers of the sea folk it seemed, they rose from large bases and were projected to reach high into the heights of the mountains. Yet these towers were not to watch the storms of the sea, but to watch the storms in the east, the storms of war, to which no ship could sail. And before them as they passed the Ered Luin, rose a city fair and gray, whose walls, towers and buildings fair, were built into the very fabric of the mountains and cliffs. The scarlet roof tops and the great flames of the sea towers burned brightly in the light of the western sun, and all heard the call of the gull and the swan. Here in a city built of Sindar hands and minds, resided a Sindar lord, in the company of Noldor; the gates of the city were opened, and with the approaching company heard the ignorant cries of joy and celebration. And Alphindil returned home with the sun reflected in his face and the smell of the sea wind in his lungs.


	12. Unwelcome

* * *

To Alphindil this was a return home, to a place he had come to love with all his heart, yet as they left the woods and the mountains of the eastern land of Eriador, Celebrin was reminded of the song of the sea, a perilous song to him, that took the land he held most dear. The high stone workings of Mithlond, basking in the amber light of the sun, and the pale silver lamps that welcomed the coming of the moon from the east and the opal gem that shone as Earendil in the waning light of the sun that set brought awe to the mouths of all the company, even the Lord Celeborn who had last seen this land as nothing more than tents and scattered homes of exiles from a land lost beneath the waves. Yet none of the beauty of Mithlond could take their minds from the task they came to fulfill, thus they rode in haste to the hall of Cirdan.

There amid the rising stone and rock were two trees of cyprus that grew towards each other and became entwined, forming an archway of wood decorated with dark green leaves, and gray boughs from which hung two silver lamps that were already lit. The hall of stone cut from the cliffs wound its way into the natural aspects of the land, so that it seemed as if it had stood there all the long years of the earth, built for the housing of the Shipwright and his kin. The trees led to a path covered by a curved, ruby-colored roof held by arches of stone on either side. Each third arch leg bore a silver lamp that shone in sliver glass, and every seventh held a brazen lamp that shone as the setting sun. and when both lamps happened by chance to be on the same arch-leg the lamp there was a mingling of bronze and silver whose light was neither white nor red flame, but seemed as a mingling between. The path led down a sloping cliff of rock and scattered tree, yet on the immediate sides of the paths were carved gardens that were tiered in several step-like formations. Each garden had fruit trees and pavilions where at times others would sit and hear the music of the sea and flutes of the sailors at the harbor.

Such a place would have been a welcome retreat from the daily war beyond the coast, even so it seemed as if a perfect place to say farewell to Ennor, for those who sought peace in the Undying Lands built it before they journeyed the sundering seas, and its was wrought with their song of sorrow and joy. Yet the company dismounted at the arch of the two cyprus, and were led down the path to the hall of Cirdan at great haste. Celebrin and the other servants of the Lords guided the horses to the stables in silence, many in awe of the havens of Mithlond. Choosing not to follow the Lords, Alphindil took leave of his friend and went to find his own garrison, which had arrived days before them.

He knew not why now the sea began to push him away from this place he always felt to be his home. To him nothing had changed, nothing was built or destroyed, the people had not changed; seeing him as a returned hero they embraced him warmly. In other times he rejoiced in this, yet somehow another voice called him, in the midst of his heart he felt pure isolation. Surrounded by his own kin, he felt alone, and incomplete. Long he lived the life of a Noldo, surrounded by Teleri at every corner, Teleri who saw in him the exiled ruin of Gondolin, and the fierce pride of Feanor. Amid all the joy and celebration he ducked into a small dark corner and sat confused as to why the earth seemed too familiar by the sea.

Celebrin cared for the steeds of his Lords and friend, in silence he felt the spirit of Mithlond question why he was there, why after all this time he had returned with still little love for it as the woods. The spirit of Mithlond, he felt, was angered by his presence, for he felt no welcome here; in Imladris he was needed, though not entirely welcome. By the side of his Lord he was tolerated and respected by the earned respect of the Noldor who lived there, and loved by the few Sindar that had not left beyond the mountains. In Imladris he was healer of the wounded and servant to the Lord Celeborn. Yet here...here the Sindar who remembered him, remembered his flight from Mithlond, leaving them to take up his duty, to command his guards, to protect his father's people. Here in Mithlond, he was a knight of Cirdan who abandoned his father's people; a kin who abandoned his people when they needed him to care for them. Even the gaze of the stable-hands was filled with this contempt, though he bore the banner of Celeborn, though he wore the armor of the Sindar, it was not enough. Cirdan had said it would be so; in his haste to leave he disregarded the truth in his foster-father's words that now reached to him out of memory and time,

_They will not take you back Uialion, you know this as well as I; the hearts of our people have always been hard- they had to be in the times we lived in. If you return a hero of great renown, they will not care, to them you are a coward and a slave to the Noldo._

_Do you think I do not know this Peradar? My heart burns now to leave my father-kin, but the peril of my Lord supercedes that. _

_Is it the peril of your Lord you go to, or to the peril of you sworn brother?... The people will not see it as you do, they will think you are going to aid one who by all accounts to them is the same kin of they who destroyed your home...who killed your family. The people will see you as a deserter...nothing more, you cannot return and find welcome here._

_Does that mean you will not welcome me back Peradar..._

He wished the memory away, not wishing to hear his foster-father's reply he had cut the thoughtful silence with a rushed farewell and left that day, so many years ago. So long ago...He knew not the answer, like Liriel he thanklessly left him without a word, without even an embrace, not expecting to receive one in return.

All his life until now, he thought they raised him and cared for him out of obligation to his parents, Liriel out of his mother's death and Cirdan out of his father's. When Liriel left the shores of Mithlond, he said a short farewell, too stubborn and selfish to think that she went because he had grown and had no need of her any longer. Then he felt as if she left him because she could not bear to be with him any longer, Cirdan showed him this falsity, but by then it was too late. With Cirdan he was the one who had left, he abandoned his foster-father, and went to live among a people he was not sure would take him in. He deserved this welcome, if one could call it that; he had abandoned Mithlond, and it abandoned him, such was the path he chose.

Suffocated by this feeling he left the horses in the charge of the stable manager and went by the eastern path to the hall of Cirdan, where his Lord and Lady took council, and where the fate of all Eldar rested upon their shoulders and upon their word.

* * *

Words:

_Peradar/Perada- Literally "half-father", meant to be an endearing term Celebrin used for Cirdan, who acted as father to him, yet was not a father. Foster-father_

_**Elfique**-Glad you are my most vocal fan at the least. The conversation between Galadriel and Celebrin I thought was a bit confusing especially since the personal pronoun she in that speech could be taken to refer to Galadriel rather than Liriel. I wanted to tie her lesson learned to the line "Even the smallest people, can change the course of history", I wonder if you noticed that...I tend to do things like that, just some other eccentricity of mine._

Side note-I realize I introduced another character, Liriel, sadly this might be te last mention of her until I write the sequal, tehehe.


	13. The Danger beyond the Haven

_I know I'm diverting from the Celebrin-Alphindil storyline, around which this very story is centered, but I realized that there was a story that needed to be said._

The hall of Cirdan rose as a great rock that was stranded by the waves of the ocean upon the shores of Lindon; it's vaulted roof gleamed as the scarlet stone of a jewelers shop that he had thoughts to throw it aside, yet seeing how the light was caught in it, took it up and coveted it for all the years of his life. The walls angled toward the roof reaching so high yet yielding to the mastery of the sky to the very stars, silver and brazen lamps surrounded it lighting it in a cascade of white and gilded flame. Facing the east stood the great doors of Cirdan's hall, made of the wood of boats that had long been destroyed by the sea storms. Their hue was gray yet devised on them were designs made of iron, silver and bronze, not in the image of the two trees of ancient fame, but of the tangled wood of Neldorath, filled with trees of beautiful darkness. The evening light was caught upon sapphires and rubies, opals and garnets as the moon light traveled across their great beauty.

Through these doors strode Celebrin, Uial's son, yet checked and slowly retreated to an unlit corner where other servants stood, waiting on their masters' call. Before him stood four Lords decked in gold and two one dressed in a white traveling dress and the other in dark gray armor; and one ancient who alone among them knew the ways of the world before the coming of the sun. He wore a scarlet robe that draped down to the floor yet it parted through the middle to reveal a youthful figure, sturdy and nimble, still wearing the garb of a sailor and shipwright. Upon his head of glowing white hair he bore a silver circlet that carried a pearl set amid emerald stones. His face was grave, and he paced the floor, seeking answers to questions that Celebrin was not present to hear. At long last his head rose to look upon the other Wise ones, and spoke in hale and aged voice, still filled with life and vigor,

"I have held the harbor from them as long as I could, yet they are many and my forces weak, my sheer presence is not enough to keep them from taking supplies from our shores. The Numenoreans are vain, they see not the authority of the earth we have right to. Till now I have said nothing yet they send an emissary now, to speak with the council, a great evil I sense beyond the haven, among them sails an evil I have seen before."

"Your wisdom is true as it has always been Cirdan, they bear with them the deceiver captured...or so they say, this news bodes ill with all who live in the free lands."

The voice of Galadriel spoke these words, harsher than Celebrin had ever known them to be, the words were spoken as if by a general, speaking harshly to avoid emotional response. She continued pacing the floor saying,

"Some odd evil enters the minds of the Edain, they seem to look upon us in jealousy."

The voice of Elrond interjected in defense,

"Yet some among them still seem to be faithful to their friendship with us."

To which Celeborn interceded,

"Yet too few among them, you too Peredhel saw how displeased they were to see us. And how quick they were to validate their actions."

"Hir Celeborn, if they indeed do bear the Deceiver, then safety appears in our favor. The power of the Eldar is fading, we could not defeat him where he resides, yet they had, perhaps it was not our fight."

These words surprisingly came from Erenion himself, someone who seemed too strong of will to give such an answer; all, even Galadriel herself was surprised by his answer. When none gave him answer in reply he began again,

"Long have we Eldar fought the long defeat, perhaps fate and Eru has blest us for our long endeavors. Perhaps this is the fate of men, to take the evil of the old world, and place it beneath new feet."

"There is no easy answer in dealing with the darkness of our world. Erenion, it cannot be so easy to assume that darkness has left these lands..."

"Do you think I do not know this Lady Galadriel? Yet long have I waited to rule my land in peace, not troubled by war, or by evil. I have longed to see the kingdom I have founded grow, rather than see it spring up without my hands."

Before any could answer, a messenger entered the hall and bowed before quickly speaking,

"My Lord Cirdan, news from the shore comes to you now at greatest speed. The fleet of the Edain has left the shores of Lindon, they depart now north... from there we know not."

Before Cirdan could answer this messenger Galadriel spoke haltingly and stern,

"Bid them to stop, send whatever forces you can, by whatever means you have keep them here...they must not leave these shores!"

"Stay where you are Gildor! Your king commands you to stay!"

Erenion's voice echoed throughout the vaulted hall, he grew in stature and in might, towering over many there; only Cirdan and Galadriel stood against his will, he turned to them and spoke,

"Send what ships you have, but know that Erenion Gil-galad, the heir of kings shall not risk open naval battle with the might of Numenor. Let them have Sauron! And Let us have peace."

To argue with him would have been folly, the white lady knew this, as did the shipwright. They turned and without a bow left the great hall, in disgust and anger; Celebrin followed them and came into pace behind his silver Lord.

In silence and muted anger the lords and the servant strode to the place where guests of Cirdan lodged. When they arrived the white lady and her silver lord entered their lodging in silence, yet after the door closed one could hear the sound of angered tones within. Cirdan stood looking at the ornate door; then, turning his eyes to the servant beside him, he was surprised by the appearance of his kin, whom he loved as his son. Their reunion was bittersweet at that moment, for many harsh feelings were present in his heart, yet joy as well at seeing the son he had raised, who had never been his own.

"Suilad Uialion, annan le u-gennin."

**Greetings, son of Uial, I have not seen you for a long time. **

"Suilad Hir Cirdan, Manen le?"

**Greetings Lord Cirdan, how are you?**

"Let us speak in a more private setting shall we?"

To this Celebrin agreed, though his heart was wroth to see his foster-father again, given their cold parting and the circumstances therein. He knew not what they would say to one another, nor what words could ease the bitterness of the long years they remained apart, never knowing if death had claimed the other. Now Celebrin followed the Lord he knew as a child, feeling as a child preparing to be scolded for riding his father's horse, nearly breaking his neck in the process.

* * *

_Gildor- Yes it is Gildor Inglorion, the very elf from "The Fellowship", I thought he should make a cameo appearance...look for more later on._


	14. Reunion

* * *

_I realize this one is a bit short as well, but this is a small vingette of the relationship between Cirdan and Celebrin, something that figures prominently in the sequal as well...sorry you'll just have to wait. _

* * *

Cirdan returned to the path of the lamp-lit archway and entered the door of the cyprus. The two walked for some time in silence as others on the path watched with some anticipation. Before the path ended at the hall, the shipwright turned right to come at long last to a small comely home beside the grand hall, a house made of dark wood, in the fashion of Sindar architecture.

From his cloak he procured a brass key and opened the door to a dark and cold room; in silence they entered and in the darkness the hearth was lit, and a wine was brought forth out of a cabinet, with two cups of silver. The silence to both seemed deafening, yet neither could bring themselves to speak; the fire crackled in the silence, revealing an unused home, filled with webs and other tell-tale signs of disuse everywhere... except for a chair, by a window facing east, toward the gate of Mithlond. The chair seemed more used than Celebrin had ever remembered, it was not covered in dust or web, but showed the signs of overuse, as if one had sat there for days on end, regularily, without ever using the rest of the house. Feeling the need to break the silence Celebrin motioned his speech to the chair,

"Hir Cirdan, unless my memory has eluded me, that chair was once in the western corner. Has there been another residing here?"

Coldly the ancient elf spoke in his voice that showed no age save for the depth of its timber. His voice echoed through the home in a cold and dark manner, speaking of fact, though beneath its unmovable demeanor a trained ear could hear the beginnings of a breaking that reached deep into the soul.

"Nay, none have lived here since you left. I moved the chair myself..."

Thus it became clear to Celebrin that the chair had been the seat of his foster-father all the long years of his abscence. The Elda before him was not as strong as he thought? Nay he was stronger than he at first believed, for a weak heart mourns a loss in silence or not at all until it breaks under the pressure, a stronger one, weeps no tears, yet knows the sorrow of it in full. The one he had come to know as Perada, his half-father, wept for the son that was not his, the child of another's loins that came to him in time of need, and had become the child he never knew. The image of the cold sea-elf dwindled away before the young standard bearer of Celeborn, and showed a true being that felt the wound that Celebrin never thought he could give. In a cracked voice upon the edge of breaking he said in almost a whisper

"I am sorry Perada... for causing you such grief on our parting."

Cirdan looked into the deep twilit eyes of the youth before him, and embraced the one he called son,

"There is nothing to forgive, Perion nin."

The night passed into daylight, and Cirdan was told of the doings of the younger, and of the battle for Eregion. The youth told him stories of the hidden refuge, and Sindarin beauty that Imladris had become, even of the grown beauty of Celebrian daughter of Celeborn. The elder rejoiced to hear of the great battle, and how the numerous forces were driven forth out of Eregion, with much toil and hardship, yet victorious nonetheless. He was intrigued by the hidden refuge of Imladris and how the river ran in the midst of its buildings; wishing in the depth of his heart to see that which this young one seemed to hold in higher regard than his Mithlond, and was surprised to see how much "older" this youth had become, how much he had grown in spirit. As the dawning hours came into the scales of time, Cirdan spoke of the progress of Mithlond, from a small city of homes and stone buildings, to a city of great beauty, mirrored in the beauty that once was his old refuge of Eglarest; though now it began to look more like Vanyimar than he would have liked. Celebrin laughed to know that his old foster-father had not become entirely Noldo, still keeping with his Teleri charm and wit. The years melted away, and when at long last the sun peaked her head over the cliffs and entered the room through the eastern window in her first blaze of glory, the two sat in two chairs one facing east the other west, enjoying the long lost company of one another.

There came a knock at the door, one of a rushed and hastened tempo. With a sigh Cirdan rose to open it and allowed a messenger from his own hall to enter. The page entered with a written note and gave it to Cirdan, yet when his eyes beheld Celebrin a shadow passed over his face and a look of disgust entered his eyes. This look Cirdan noticed, and with a scold in his voice he ushered the page from the house with a firm,

"That is all."

When the door had closed Cirdan read the note in silence, and quickly placed it in the folds of his robe that had been laid on the table before the hearth the night before. Celebrin at last broke the uneasy silence the page had let enter the room,

"I see I am still not welcome here...it is as you said it would be, that youth was a Sinda, who loved to follow me around, if I let him..."

"In time they will come to see you again as I have always seen you."

"And if time is not available? I know that note was a summons to bid farewell to the Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel, the look in your eyes and your reluctance to speak of it are proof enough for me."

"Remain here Perion nin, where you are no servant, but a knight... and where your sworn brother resides as a hero among our people."

"Do not attempt to sway me with my friend Perada, my duty is to Celeborn now... you would not have me abandon him in his hour of need, even now when the fate of the east is unknown?"

Cirdan looked upon the youth, who by now had become full-grown in mind without his rearing. And before him stood the memory of his cousin wishing leave to live in Doriath, for the love of a maiden, he had met in the blink of an eye; a kin who was determined to follow through with the deciscion he had made, even to the point of abandoning all he had come to know. The old elf smiled at this full-grown son of his and reluctantly said,

"You have the conviction of your father Perion... Do not abandon this duty that you have taken upon yourself. I was wrong to ask you to do so."

"I do not wish to go, and leave you here alone with us..."

"Do not ask me to go with you, my place is here, yours is among the woods...Let not another thousand years pass, before we see one another again, to this do you swear?"

"With all my heart I promise it Perada."

And with that the two left the humble home and walked side by side to the gateway of Mithlond, there before them was prepared the two lords and one added servant, all three cloaked in the gray of Celeborn's company. The White lady spoke with a deep and ancient voice, to Cirdan, who alone saw the earth in it's youth,

"We take leave of you now Cirdan of Mithlond. May the Valar protect your haven from any storm that shall come."

"And may the wind on your sails that speed you home, be in your favor, Galadriel and Celeborn of the woods."

The ancient mariner and shipwright turned to the youth beside him, who by this time had been given his horse and banner, to the grown foster-son before him he said,

"Go in peace Perion nin, you are welcome at all times here by the sea."

"Navear Perada nin, may this not be our last parting."

And with a final embrace between them the gray company left the haven of Mithlond, and rode with quickest haste toward the rising sun, to Imladris where news had just arrived of the glorious battle.

* * *

_Perion- lit-half-son- mirrored term of endearment between the two adopted family members. _

_side note =In case anyone forgot... the cousin, or kin, of Cirdan referred is Elorn, Celebrin's father, also called Uial, hence Uialion being the name Celebrin is refrenced at the end of the last chapter._


	15. To Imladris

_Well now things are getting more towards the end. A slight warning there will be some intimate scenes between Alphindil and Celebrin later on in the next chapter, not slash or anything gaudy like that, just intimate- as elves, I believe, are very emotional beings who need intimacy. _

* * *

The small band of gray-clad travelers passed the gate of Mithlond, whose green elfstone bade them farewell, as the opal stone of the east welcomed them to the gray city built by mariners and soldiers in the days that had been filled with war. Before them lay the vast expanse of Eriador and beyond that the mighty mountains of Mist where Carahdras stood at the peak of ice and snow, beyond that a world that few had seen since the awakening of the Eldar. Before the troupe could start at full gallop a call came from behind and as they turned their eyes a rider dressed in gold and blue, the regalia of Erenion, came upon them at full speed. The figure rode past them and doubled back to stand in their path, his blue cloak covered his face from their eyes yet the voice was easily distinguishable as that of the Peredhel, Elrond son of Earendil the Mariner. He did not speak as he normally would to ones such as Celeborn and Galadriel, rather he spoke as one speaking words that were not his own,

"The High King Erenion Gil-galad of Lindon wishes for council with the Lady and Lord of Imladris, to know what they plan to do leaving so soon from his company."

The voice of Celeborn echoed throughout the canyon, which opened out into the hill country of Eriador, as he spoke,

"The Lord Erenion would not take our council when he first heard it, if he seeks to debate us again he will find us less than co-operative. As for our business, he should well know that my lady and I seek our home in Imladris, from there he knows our plans."

"With that answer Lord Celeborn, the High King will offer no support of your intentions, so he has spoken."

"Then return to him Elrond and tell him that we need not his help."

The final answer came from the Lady beside Celeborn, as forceful as any queen of the Eldar. As the lords debated the gilded armor of Elrond reminded Celebrin of the friend he left behind in Mithlond, the friend he never said farewell to in his rush to follow his lord. He turned to face the gate that lay just behind him, fighting the urge in him to rush back to him and gain the blessing they each gave at the other's parting. Though his master wished to ride forth to Mithlond, the horse Mithegaer stood where he was, oddly enough showing affection for the steed beside him, a mare who was as white as the snow atop the Mountains of Mist. A voice that seemed shaded and aged, rough and uncouth surprised Celebrin as it spoke,

"Gaereledh knows you meant to bid him farewell, though you left in haste and without word."

"And who are you? Did he speak with you stranger?"

"Nay he did not say so to me, but his face spoke thus...Forgive me for my interruption of your thought, I shall leave you to it."

With a smile upon his face Celebrin discerned the voice behind the cowl and in jest he spoke,

"Your skill with voices has become better my friend, though it surprised me, it did not surprise the steed I have rode since I was a youth."

The hooded stranger dropped his cowl from his face and the two warmly embraced each other and when they parted Celebrin spoke in a hushed whisper, for the journey began again with Elrond departing at haste to return to the Gray Haven,

"What reason brings you in such garb, are you an escort of the King?"

"For me you abandoned house and station all those years ago...It was for me you turned yourself into servant rather than remain a knight, though you would say it was for the Lord Celeborn. I chose to return the favor...and this."

In his outstretched hand Alphindil revealed a small blue stone that hung upon a chain of Mithril, which seemed as a tear upon his hand, a small broken tear. Celebrin took the stone in his hand and with a smile upon his face he thanked his friend for returning the jewel to him as he promised he would. The journey remained at a slow trot until the travelers made their way past the White Towers that began to rise above the hills surrounding them. From there the horn call was given and the gray company bade their last farewell to the lands of the High King.

The forests of Eriador rolled by them as they journeyed past the vale where the serenade of two voices echoed the songs of old; at full speed they past the Rhudaur, and found their way to the hidden valley of Imladris beyond the Brunien. The horses were quickly taken to the stables and the entire city was filled with the many sounds of merriment. Trumpets blared and flutes sang merrily with the tapping of feet upon the floor. The travelers entered the great hall that had been built only a decade ago, as a makeshift ward for the caring of the injured and dying; one of the few places in all the settlement that was large enough to contain several people at once with space free enough to move, save for the river bed and the great courtyard. Despite the rain that came from the east merriment did not cease and merely moved into the largest place available.

What the travelers left as a hall filled with light beds, injured soliders and the supplies of the healers, was now a place filled with dancing and song of victory and joy; in the midst of it burned a great fire, where once was laid stone and tile upon level ground, was now a great basin, carved out of the very earth and within it burned firewood that released sweet fragrances into the air. The eyes of all fell upon the newly arrived, and a great cry emminated from the room to see their lord and lady returned. A light yet tall figure pushed her way through the crowd of celebrants, her silver-white hair gleamed in the firelight and her smiling face shimmered as the morning sun, reflected in the brilliance of the green elfstone that hung upon her brow. Her musical voice rung out amid the crowd as she greeted her parents warmly,

"Adar, Naneth, joy resides in my heart to know your presence again."

Upon seeing her face all who rode with grave and troubling news, forgot it in the merriment of the moment. And the night was passed with song and dance, with drink and food that came plentifully from the bakeries and kitchens. And the stars rolled over the sky and the crescent moon fell beneath the western sky to bring his silver light to the land behind the mists.


	16. The burden of Enmity

_Elfique: I was afraid they were too long, heh oh well, they maybe getting shorter because the story is being told in moments rather than in certain time sequences. _

* * *

Morning came from behind the mountains that were crowned in mist, and golden flowers opened their faces to the sky, reminders of a noble elf's sacrifice many years ago, a sacrifice that gave hope to the Eldar at the time of their most harrowing defeat. When the noon meal had been eaten, the noble family of Imladris sat in the garden of their home beneath the trees. The elf-maiden sat weaving vines into a wreath to adorn a head, her parents stood in silence pondering thoughts that had plagued their dreams, thoughts that had not yet been revealed to any save those who sat in the garden with them. A small distance from them stood Celebrin, looking up into the trees, dreaming of the homes of the Nandor; homes that sat upon the limbs of a tree and whose silent beauty had yet to be surpassed in his opinion. Beside him at the very trunk of the tree sat an elf with golden-brown hair, plucking a dark wooden harp, humming a soft song, joining the voices of the birds with his own soft tenor. Both wore the silver-gray garb of servants of the Lord and Lady, yet, unlike the many attendants that were ushered day by day by their duties, these twain wore tunics that bore the personal seal of the Lords of Imladris, two trees, one silver, the other gold, whose limbs intertwined and shone in the midst of a sable field, surrounded by countless stars. None questioned the presence of these two servants in the garden, nor would any attempt lest they be of higher presence than the Lord and Lady. The voice of the minstrel ceased to sing the old tune of Gondolin, that was once sung in the fields at the time of harvest, and he spoke to his companion, looking upon the scene of the noble family,

"What do you think they will do Celebrin? They spoke of leaving Imladris on the journey here, yet they tarry now to make their plans known."

"I know not what they choose to decide Alphindil...and to where they decide to go I know not, for it is buried deep in their hearts."

"You will follow them if they go?"

"As will you...you are their personal servant now, a knight beneath their banner."

The two friends laughed at the position they found themselves in now, for once they did not wander aimlessly, free to do their own will, without thought that their actions mattered in the world. Now...now they were privy to the thoughts of they who shaped the fortunes of all that lived as immortal, of all who they used to be. It was not a burdening thought to them, who had known many crafts in the time they lived in Ennor after the Great War that scared the earth. Both watched and listened to the council the two rulers of Imladris gave one another, feeling as if time made them the eyes for this small moment in the history of the world. The Silver Lord paced the ground, deep in thought and questioning of paths for him to take, he spoke to his wife, who stood emersed in her own thought,

"Imladris has proven well in being a refuge from the storm, yet my thoughts ever turn to my kin who live beyond the mountain... they know not of their peril if the Deceiver returns, if he left at all."

"They are not prepared to withstand a full force of orcs...they are divided, scattered...they need one to unite them in preparing for what is to come."

"Are not Oropher and Amdir enough? They are closer to the Nandor and the Lindar than any chieftain of the Noldor."

"Yet neither of them have the skill to mount a defense, nor the knowledge of how to withstand a large scale attack...Oropher may have some skill, but Amdir has never had a military mind, he seeks only to hide until the danger is over, then is comfortable repairing the damage done when it is. The Nandor and Lindar need a leader who can teach them to be..."

"Noldor?"

"To be strong as they once were, able to defend themselves, able to hold the land beneath their feet."

"They have ceased to fight in open battle ever since Denethor was killed, they will take no king, and the Kings they have will not bow down to a usrpur."

"Will not Oropher and Amdir will trust you? You are their kin, surely distrust must not be felt among them for one such as yourself."

"They...may be less than joyous to receive my help...Their respect for me has dwindled I think since I chose to remain in Eregion, rather than follow them."

"It is the only way Celeborn...Erenion will not see that the evil is not diminished, he does not see our hope lies in the East, as a first defense against the forces of Mordor. Without it Imladris will fall, and Eriador will be razed to the ground, and even Mithlond and Lindon will not stand the tide. If the east stands ready, we may be able to hold back the long-defeat, we may be able to survive the storm I feel is to come."

Celebrin's concentration on the conversation was broken by the entrance of a hooded guest, whose gilded armor shone beneath the sun and who stood ready as it were to fight in both manner of tongue and sword. Alphindil rose from his earthen seat to perform his duty as it were and keep the guest at bay while Celebrin told the Lord and Lady of his arrival. As his companion left him with a look of worry on his face, Celebrin strode in the opposite direction to the place where the Lord Celeborn spoke of matters that no stranger should hear, yet. Having interrupted their train of thought the Lord and Lady looked upon their servant with a sense of urgency and annoyance, yet hearing of the visitor's arrival the Lord Celeborn softened his features and said a firm yet soft,

"Thank you Elornion."

Alphindil arrived with Elrond Peredhel, just moments later, announcing him to the Lords of Imladris, with a certain reverence that bordered on worship, for Celebrin alone knew how Alphindil admired Elrond, much the same way he admired Celeborn. As the three noble lords entered their own conversation the two companions stood by, first in silence then moving slowly away Alphindil motioned for his friend to follow.

"I like not where this leads...how can any hope for the Eldar remain if all our people continue to be divided by old woes."

"It is not easy to forgive betrayal my friend. Even I carry the scars of these old woes."

"Yet you trust me...and am I not a Noldo?"

"In you it is different."

"No it is not. Long have the Noldor fought the evil of Sauron, while the kingdoms of the east arose in secrecy."

"And long did the Sindar fight Morgoth while the Noldor sat in comfort and safety, forgetting all ties of brotherhood and kinship with those they left behind."

Celebrin's angered tone surprised Alphindil, and indeed Celebrian who sat not but a small distance away from them. Seeking to spare her their quarrel Alphindil took his companion by the arm and walked further away out of the range of hearing.

"And it is that same stubbornness that drives the Eldar apart, weakening our resolve."

"Do not speak to me of stubbornness... though it was by Sindar hands that Gondolin rose, it was the curse of Feanor that had it crash to the ground. Though it was by Sindar knowledge that the Noldor learned to survive, it was the Noldor that brought Ennor to ruin. Long have my people been thanklessly pushed aside by "your" Noldor, who think themselves too high to trust any Sindar."

The tension caused Celebrin to quickly remove himself from the presence of his companion, fearing that the anger boiling inside of him would cause his friend to leave for Mithlond, and part them again after they had just reunited. Alphindil would have followed his friend, yet the voice of the White Lady beckoned him to her presence, and hesitantly he went to his duty as servant of the rulers of Imladris.

* * *

The day passed into late evening and Celebrin paced the floor of his residence allowing the darkening sky to permeate the room rather than light a candle. His thoughts would not stray from what he said, some of it untrue, to a friend he new better than to think petty and arrogant. Yet in truth he was not completely sorry that he had said them, such truth lay in the unforgiving bitterness of the Sindar toward the Noldor, such feelings of contempt lay deep within him for the people who had destroyed his home, a culture he knew his companion thought well of, even subscribed to. It had been long years since the two had ever quarreled over differing ideals, yet all those times before had never ended as this, most of the time they came to a mutual decision, or let the argument fall. This time...this time an entire day had past before they spoke, and it was indeed the first time Celebrin ever called his friend a Noldor so contemptuously.

The words he spoke to his friend reverberated in his mind as he was pacing the floor; a knock came from the doorway, silhouetted in the light of the lamps outside stood Alphindil, yet his face was not welcoming, his arms were crossed and he leaned against the doorway, he showed reluctance to be there at that moment, yet he spoke first,

"I came to speak with you, before you heard from anyone else what is to occur."

Celebrin gave him a silent nod, realizing his companion used the voice he normally used when speaking of orders, not of matters of emotion, so stern and cold it seemed then.

"The Lord Elrond has come with direction to remain in Imladris, as vassal of Erenion Gil-galad. The Lordship of this land has been passed from Celeborn to him, this afternoon...the Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel have called all who fall under their banner and wish to follow them, to prepare to leave by mid-day tomorrow...I assume you will go with them?"

"I am sorry...for what I said, I did not mean to call you..."

"You dislike the Noldor, for what they did to your family, and your land...I know their evils, but I know their good, I wish you see that."

"I do...in you I see the good, never the evil"

Alphindil walked towards the center of the room, though poorly lit, and touched the scar upon his comrade's right cheek with such care and tenderness one could feel that the cold air about him had left. Both walked to the balcony that lay just outside the room, and looked upon the stars that were within the sphere of the valley.

"The darkness of Mordor cannot defeat everything...not even hope, nor the stars in the sky. Our greatest defeat was when we forgot to trust one another, when our people separated and allowed old enmity and pride to reside in their hearts. I shall not let it be so with us Celebrin, if you ask it of me, I will go beyond the mountains."

"I ask only that you do it of your free will..."

"We shall see when the morning light comes."

Alphindil turned to his friend and looked in the eyes of one he had come to know as more than family in the long years of their mutual fostering, the familiar scar and raven hair that mirrored star-light. His hand rose to touch the scar that his friend bore, something only he had been able to do, and said,

"How old the world has become, yet its beauty cannot diminish."

And he turned and slowly left the room, and the lamp was blown out and nightshade enveloped the Sindar within and dreams floated in the air, and all slept in peace, until the dawning of the morning sun.


	17. The long way around

_Elfique: this one is longer than the last I hope, I am trying to return to a more intimate storyline, so bear with me._

_Well the journey continues, a bit centralized on Celebrin this one, but he is the main character._

* * *

A cool western breeze moved the curtains in the room of Celebrin Uialion, son of Elorn and Tathiril, as he gazed out into the gardens below him, where children played with makeshift swords of wood, or with dolls made of cloth and down. Their play seemed so undisturbed by what was happening that day, little did they know that they too would be separated, some would remain in Imladris, others would follow their parents to the East and the unknown. He marveled at how simple life was to them, the borders of long hardship did not dampen their spirits, nor did immediate separation, all they knew was that there was daylight in the sky, and time enough to play before that evening.

Celebrin looked around at the room he had stayed in for only a fraction of his life, its carved walls and vaulted ceiling flowed in such rhythm as the very river just beneath its balcony. His fingers ran down the contours of the wood-work, made by his own hands, the bed by the virtue of the skill he learned at the hands of the Nandor, the door carved out of oak, and ash. The linens, now secured away for another to use, with their fine embroidered lines winding in an immortal pattern that never seemed to end, lay upon the mattress next to his travel bag. The brown satchel had traveled with him all the years of his life, from the destruction of Doriath, through the adventures he took in Eriador with his friend at his side, now to the east it traveled with him filled with what articles he had left to him that were most precious. Within lay the flute he made by his own hands, of shell and opal, part by the hands of his father, broken in the downfall of Doriath and repaired in Avernien; there also lay clothes he was given when he first arrived at the house of Cirdan, the memory of that day passed into his mind as his hand ran over its delicate embroidery.

"_How many?"_

_A voice woke him in the din of the confusion, he was no longer surrounded by the_

_woods, the shadows of the refugees were now revealed as true beings he had come to know in all the years of his life, though now they were marred by burns or scars, most had the lost look of terror in their eyes. His head hurt, and the memory of what he saw pained his heart, he knew only sorrow then, and tears flew down his heart as water from a spring. Again a voice entered his hearing, this one more familiar to his memory, one he always knew to be sure and strong of will, yet now the tremor of fear had entered it, though strong it was still,_

_"There are four other groups coming, one headed by Oropher, another by Amdir, and the last by my wife."_

_"By the depth of the ocean! So many, yet only a fraction of what I had expected when the news came to my ears..."_

_Darkness took him again, and the sounds of blurred visions of people shifted away into sleep, though a dreamless one, filled with memory of arrows and parents slain. A nudge awoke him from uncomfortable rest, and a soft, musical voice permeated his mind, in longing and despair he called out in the darkness,_

_"Nana? I cannot see you...Where are you?"_

_"Awaken Dithenon, you need to eat..."_

_Before him sat a fair maiden crowned in golden-white hair, dressed in a blue gown stained with blood, dirt and grass. A light seemed to glow about her, as a vision from the world of mist, and her face was wroth with sincerity and pain, heartache and care. For any other her vision would have appeared welcoming, and an ease from their pain, indeed the broth she held in her hands would have seemed as precious as silver, yet not to he who she addressed rather than welcome her, he turned his eyes from the vision,_

_"Leave me..."_

_"But you must eat, or you will not be strong enough..."_

_"I said go!"_

_"Is this he?"_

_An ancient and hale voice entered his ears, one of gentility and strength, beauty and power, in the accent of his father's sea-faring people. The woman replied to him,_

_"Yes my lord it is he...I will leave you in private"_

_"Stay, I will have need of you...Face me young one, allow me to see your face."_

_The figure sat upon the bed and turned the child's reluctant face to him, showing the child a figure whose eyes reminded him of Elu Thingol, though this Eldar's were a blue-gray, much like his father, and his white flawless hair was pinned back so that it would be removed from his face. The Eldar looked surprised to see the child's face, to which he said,_

_"So very much like him...I did not believe it at first, but you are he...the son of Uial."_

_"Who are you?"_

_"I am the last of your family child, the kin of your father...Now you must eat."_

_He took the bowl from the maiden who stood behind him, and offered it to the child before him, yet in a rage of passion, upon mention of his father the child pushed the bowl away, causing it to spill across the floor crying,_

_"My family is gone forever... they are not coming back!"_

_The child rose from the bed and wishing to leave began to run from where he was, though he knew not where to go; yet before he took more than three steps pain throbbed on the right side of his face causing him to fall to the floor, crying in pain, arms grabbed him after he fell, and darkness took him again._

_When he awoke he saw a dimly lit room and the sound of rushing water permeated his hearing; upon opening his eyes he saw the figure of the maiden who cared for him sleeping peacefully upon a chair beside his bed, and before the foot of his bed he saw the same lordly figure pacing the floor slowly, deep in his own thought. The figure upon seeing him awake went to the side of his bed and sat upon it, looking at the marred face of the child. _

_"We feared we would loose you to despair, yet it looks to me by the color of your face that you are not lost...Find joy in that, whatever the circumstances may be...I am Cirdan, I am your kin._

_The youth then looked at himself, now dressed in linens, far too large for him, made for a grown Elda, seeing that these clothes belonged to this one who addressed himself as kin he said softly, his voice laden with much sorrow,_

_"I am Celebrin."_

Memory faded to the present of the world, touching the scar left upon his eye, he smiled a bittersweet smile and carefully packed the linen tunic into his satchel. Leaving the room he walked through the winding corridors and over the bridged river to the great hall, which by that time had come to be known as the Hall of Fire, the hearth still blazing from that night he arrived in Imladris, though now at mid-day it burned softly, and many surrounding it roasted nuts for children to eat as they waited. There seemed to be a large number of elves everywhere, some soldiers dressed in light gear as he was, but mostly women and children, whose gilded hair shimmered brightly over dark-hued clothing made for long journeying. Yet he did not remain in the Hall, for the waiting was not for him, he instead passed through nodding to the travelers, healers he had come to know, and soldiers he had served along side. Leaving the great hall he entered a small room adjacent to it, where his lord and lady stood, speaking with one another, noticing him enter they nodded a welcome to him and continued with their conversation,

"The main host must follow the path to Khazad- Dum, it is the shortest path, and the Dwarves there would give us safe passage through."

"You may take whatever path you wish, however I cannot go with you on such a journey, my path leads south."

"Then so be it, but allow the children and women to come with me, they are safer with the Dwarves than in the unprotected lands of the south."

"Very well, but leave a few days hence, they are not entirely ready for journeying."

The Silver lord took the hand of his wife and kissed her in a sign of farewell, turning to his standard bearer he spoke,

"Call the soldiers, we ride now to the lands of the south."

Celebrin bowed and turned to the great hall, all within who were geared for travel stepped forward and followed him to the stables where the horses were prepared by stable-hands. Finding Mithgear, Celebrin strapped his satchel to the side of the white steed, and began adjusting the riding blanket when a familiar voice came from behind him,

"Take this..."

Turning around Celebrin saw Alphindil dressed in rather simple clothing holding a flask made of bronze and decorated with the insignia of a hart.

"What is...?"

"It is Miruvor, for the journey."

"How did you get this?"

"I traded my best cloak for it, because I wanted to make sure your journey was comfortable, and as a gift and an apology."

"There is not need for it."

"I am not going with you...my path leads me elsewhere, but I wish to give this also to you."

And from his hand he held out a brooch, in the shape of a swan in flight, made of black shimmering stone, trimmed with mithril and silver, Celebrin's face was surprised to see the heirloom of his companion's family offered to him,

"I cannot take this..."

"But I give it to you freely...you gave me your gem when I left, now I give you mine, in hopes that you will return it when next we meet."

The white horse of Celeborn passed the stall of Celebrin and he knew then that the time had come, with a quick and strong embrace the two said farewell and Celebrin rode off to ride beside his lord with banner unfurled, and the midday sun shining brightly with a Western wind blowing towards the mountains, and up into the snow peaks above.


	18. Songs and Old Friends

_Elfique: Sorry about the last one, I meant to put that comment on this next one, this one is the longer of the recent chapters, hope you have enjoyed them._

_All who read this, please leave comments, I don't know how I am doing or if it appeals to anyone._

* * *

The company of some four hundred able-bodied riders passed that day mostly in silence as the valley of the refuge became naught but a memory, and the wood land became sparse as they neared the hill country that was once Eregion. There the green grass covered the marks made by fire, and the head stones that marked mass graves were weathered by the storms that came often from the mountainside. The caves that once led to the house of the Mirdain and the great smithies of the elves were no longer welcoming and the darkness therein spoke of evil shadows. Yet above the caves and the shallow hills that made the country, life had returned, a small rabbit scurried here and there, and a deer watched the company pass by. For Celebrin the silence allowed him to dream, not of the future as mortals do, nor did he wish to dream of the past, instead he dreamed of what happened beyond where he was, lands that he had never seen and heard only rumor that had been passed down for many years. 

The Nandor spoke often of the Eastern Lands, where they once came from, a land of immeasurable beauty, where the lands rolled as the calm waves of the sea and beyond where forests covered the land and once grew as tall as the mountains. Yet these were only the tales told to children, whose parents saw not the lands of Valinor, and found greater beauty where they lived. In his mind Celebrin often dreamed of such places, where the woods could meet the sea and he would be at peace, for he had never dwelt in a place where the two met, and his mind was ever torn between them. For in the sea lay the memory of his father, the tales he was told when he was but a child, of voyaging in ships to lands where none had seen, hearing the ever moving sea, the only immortal thing left in the world marred by Morgoth, every day of your life and it's seductive song. Yet in the woods, there lay the hearth and home of his mother, where the song of the birds filled the air and the fragrant trees waved in the wind, where one could dance or walk or sing to the living trees and hear their song in reply. His dreams were interrupted by the strong voice beside him,

"Sing a song for us Elornion, the silence seems too harrowing for me, and the memory of the lost land weighs down my heart."

"What song would you have me sing Hir nin?"

"Something to make the birds envy you."

Celeborn smiled, remembering how he would jest with his former standard bearer, how Daeron and Elorn would argue at times as to how songs were sung and in what mode, Daeron being the master bard would always win these debates, yet it was Celeborn's joy to see the Sea-farer and his stubborn holding on to debate merely for the spectacle. The raven-haired Sinda beside him called to one who rode directly behind him, one he knew to be little skilled with a harp, yet was the only one present who knew how. A chord was strung and Celebrin rose his voice to the high airs of the mountain with a song that traveled to the depths of the sea and rose as the waves lap upon a boat's side.

Here among the steep cove hills

Where the mountains meet the sea

And the green grass grows

Beneath the silver sky

I heard its voice calling me

Here amid the crashing waves

Where ships sleep in the harbor

Nearest to the West

In blessed Elgarest

Where no eye can gaze farther

I heard its voice calling me

To bask in its cool beauty,

Remain where I was,

In rushing white-tipped waves

And leave cares to memory

Then I saw the great green wood

And I heard within a song

Beneath woven trees

Lady of the willows

To you my heart shall belong.

No clearer song I have heard

Than the one you sing to me

I leave all behind

And seek only your song

Abandoning the great sea

Here among the woven trees

Where I am far from the sea

Oh, Most Beautiful

Lady of the Willows

I hear your voice calling me

And his song continued to rise and fall, with the counted tap of the horse's feet, and the stringing of the harp; many behind paced quicker to hear the song of Celebrin, a song that had not been sung since a day long passed, before the sun ever sailed across the sky, when a Sea-elf wedded a daughter of Doriath. And many remembered the one that stayed behind, who was waiting till their eyes met again, their own song and their own tale told only in their minds, many beautiful tales, yet too numerous to write in full. And the day passed with the song of Celebrin, and many others besides till the day's end came quicker than expected; yet still the journey went into the late hours, until the sun rose again from behind the mountains, and rest was granted to the steeds and their riders.

* * *

For days on end the journey lasted, and each night the moon passed through its phases, as he rose above the mountain edges, and now and then a storm would come upon the small host of gray clad travelers, sometimes snow as they climbed the steep slopes to find easier road than what lay below. Soon after many nights they came to the edge of a great forest whose arm extended farther west and then turned north to the lands of Eriador. The wood looked and felt older than any there, even the Lord Celeborn, for he seemed as a child compared to the age of the trees. The forest hugged the roots of the mountain for on its unseen southern border lay the fragments of its great vastness hewn by the mischief of orcs. Celebrin could not hold his awed manner at the greatness of this wood and how expansive it seemed to stretched, so he questioned his lord who sat beside him upon his white steed,

"My lord, what forest is this that I have heard not of in all the news that past between the east and west of the Elven lands?"

"It is the oldest forest east of Valinor, or so it is said by the Noldor, yet it was here when the Eldar of old crossed its expanse, and remained here when Beleriand was lost to the sea...What its name is, none can say, save they who dwell within."

"Are they Nandor my lord?" Or Avari that came late upon the journey?"

"You have seen their like before, but they are not of our kindred."

Celeborn rode to the edge of the forest and called out in a tongue none could understand, one that none had spoken since the days of Doriath, before the coming of the sun and moon. In a rolling and booming voice he pronounced long and echoing sounds that would have sounded as if it were nonsense to the untrained ear. And from the woods came a booming return, similar in tone, yet sounding as the bending of wood and the sound of wind passing through a hollow tree or a narrow canyon. Then Celeborn spoke in an ancient dialect of his native tongue, that only three among the small host could remember,

"I am Celeborn, son of Doriath the lost, kin to Thingol King and Melian the Maia. Hear me and send forth Fangorn, I desire counsel with the eldest among the Tree-folk."

The forest before them began to groan in a great call that seemed to echo throughout the entire valley, the trees moved as if the very wind bent their great bodies, yet no wind was present greater than a soft breeze from the south. Ash and oak, willow and elm swayed in the invisible wind, and from the great and dark forest a dark rumble reverberated in the bones of all there. His face seemed etched in wood, old yet alive, full of life and perilous joy and thought. His great and imposing figure quietly and regally came from the forest, and he stood, child of Yavanna, eldest of the Tree-hearders, he who was known by many names, whose true name was a song of his long life, Fangorn, mightiest of the Tree-folk. He stood tall and hale, ancient, wise and gentle, yet perilous as well, for the sight of a creature such as he, only few knew of. Indeed it seemed as if the very forest was sentient, thinking, feeling, breathing and speaking, and forth came their emissary, the voice of the woods of old. From his great form came a voice that reached deep and its tone was unmatched by others' ability, unless they blew into a great horn, yet his voice moved to make audible speech, in a tongue that all present knew,

"It has been many years, Celeborn of Doriath, since I saw you."

"It has been far too long Great Fangorn, how grows your woodland home."

"A great many orc band has moved through my borders, burning and hacking, yet they did not return..."

"They were destroyed, the forces of..."

"Now Young Celeborn, you still speak to finish others words."

"Forgive me for my quick words...I forgot how to speak with one of the ancients."

"Or is it I who have forgotten how many a youth thinks, even among the Eldar...this we will never know... yet the birds tell me, you wish for my aid."

"That was the doing of my wife, she wishes to journey to the lands east of the Mountains and North of your realm."

"Ah yes...that which is called by the elves, Greenwood the Great, and another if I remember correctly...ah yes by the name of Lorinand, that is where the birds are from. Your people have such strange names for these lands...but I do not grudge it...it reminds me of the old days...Your beautious lady is not with you young Celeborn?"

"Nay Ancient one, she took the paths beneath the mountain."

"In the realm of the dwarves!? So strange a folk the Noldor are...fraternizing with dwarves. Yet it is her wish...what brings you here then young Celeborn?"

"We wish for safe passage through your woods, I, like you, care not for the doings of dwarves..."

"If it is safe passage you wish for, then safe is what I shall give you my young friend,"

With a boom in his voice a long sonorous sound eminated from his long mouth and reverberated throughout the vale in to the very woods, shaking the mountains in their foundations. Then all were awe stricken to see the scene before them, for the entire forest seemed to move; roots and limbs parted to form a long hall with a roof of vaulted leaves and limbs and a "paved" floor of roots and saplings. Fangorn spoke again,

"Follow me Young Celeborn, through the forest I shall lead you."

And so following their Lord the company entered the pathway of trees, vaulted with many hued leaves, where the sunlight pierced the shadows in patterns of gold, red and green, and the bodies of many a tree were as diverse as the rocks upon a shore, for some were smooth and others bent and gnawed, yet all formed a great tapestry of the forest world, more beautiful than any elven kingdom.

Celebrin rode beside his Lord, in silent awe of the world he now walked, as if plucked from the past into a memory of childhood, much of what surrounded him was familiar. The great being walking beside him and Celeborn looked down at the staring elf and smiled saying,

"Greetings Master Uial, it took me a whileto place name to face and memory; but at long last I finally remembered your name."

The deep voice sounded melodic as it spoke, yet Celebrin being too shocked at being addressed so spoke not a word; Celeborn spoke for his speechless servant,

"Forgive me Great One, it sorrows me to tell you that the one you speak to now is not who you think he is, yet closer than you know... This is my personal herald, Celebrin, son of Elorn and Tathiril, a child of Doriath ere its ruin...you saw him long ago."

"Ahhh yes, the child of the scarred eye. Forgive me for bringing old woes to the light of day young one."

At long last Celebrin's tongue was loosened as he forced out a reply,

"Th...there is no harm in your words Great One. It prides me to know I have some of my father in my blood."

And thus the day was passed and the next, it seemed to all the travelers present that the journey through the forest would never end, and that it would seem to run on until the ends of the world. The night and day were fashioned together for little light entered the deep forest canopy, and no stars were seen to count the time or the season. The less trained in calculatory matters lost track of the days, for as they traveled in the midst of the woods daylight was lost and they traveled in darkness. Many believed that weeks had passed as they traveled on, until they passed the center of the wood and daylight was distinguished from night. Still the journey drew on, sometimes in silence, other times in song or jests, yet the time came when before them the light of brilliant day, unhindered by leaf or limb shone through the canopy and the hall of trees had ended. Fangorn stood before the small host a spoke to the Silver Lord,

"To the Northern edge of these woods I have brought you, safe as my word had said, may no tree fall before your path and may your leaves grow ever on, and the sun shine ever on your faces."

"And may the weather of time be good to you, and the river ever cool at your feet."

And before them opened a great and golden expanse, a plain filled with grasses and wild flowers, where many a horse could run free upon the world and never hear his master's call. Yet beyond lay the beginnings of another great forest, and from the distance they saw it, it seemed to shimmer gold in the afternoon light. The trees of this country were indeed taller than Celebrin had ever known, not so tall to pale the mountain heights, yet great and mighty nonetheless; thence they saw the great elven kingdom of Loriannd.


	19. In the Golden Wood and the Great Bending

Golden-tipped trees with silver limbs and trunks lined a small unseen path, unseen by the eyes of mortals and other untrained beings; there was little watch set upon the borders of this land, few saw them pass by and even fewer deemed them of some importance, one red fox stopped before she crossed their path and when their train ended she continued on her way. The small host gaped in awe at the sheer size of the surrounding wood, the height of the trees that seemed to be so alien to the world, not following the true order of wither and rest in the winter months, nor did they seem evergreen as those upon the mountain heights; seeing his servant's awe at these trees Celeborn smiled and mused,

"You saw them long ago Elornion, in Mithlond during the days of peace, they came from Tol Eressa, by way of Numenor, they are mallorn, the only of their kind east of Valinor."

"That was such a short time for them to grow to such a height my lord! What virtue have they?"

"I know not their virtue, they are the tree-craft of my Lady, in her eyes they grow, under her hand, yet now they have slowed, becoming adapted to the world as they are; the mallorn are the beginnings of the land of Loriannd, we shall come near to the home of Amdir soon."

Then a call as a bird went forth from the height of the trees and a slender gray rope cascaded down before the stopped horse of Celeborn and from the sky it seemed came a youthful elvish form, with straight golden hair, his face bore the features of his parents, who are among the most beautiful of the Eldar living in this world; he wore the garb of a prince, in the style of a traveler, yet upon his Silvan tunic he wore the embroidered mark of Celeborn, and on his hand bore a ring given by Amdir, the King of this land. Celeborn smiled at the youth's ever-smiling face and exclaimed,

"Ionen! It is my joy to see you again..."

Dismounting from the horse Celeborn ran to his son and embraced him strongly, having not seen him in many a long year; many among the small host were astonished to hear their Lord call this Silvan dressed youth , son, yet their eyes saw indeed the face of Celeborn in him now that they stood side by side, and his hair indeed bore the hue of Galadriel's fame, his gray eyes claimed him of Doriath lineage, yet his smile...his smile could not be placed as to where it came from.

"Adar, it is a great joy to see you again as well, long have been the years since I set forth from Eregion; but now our family is together again."

"Your mother has already arrived then?"

"With a great host behind her as well, it seemed as the stories she once told of her coming to Ennor, in the host of Fingolfin."

The youth's simple laugh bade them welcome in a way unexpected, for others dressed in Silvan garb and with Teleri expressions as their own came from the trees above down slender gray ropes, and welcomed them in the Sindar tongue, though pronounced with their rather wild accent that seperated them as Nandor and some of an older forgotten dialect.

Thus in friendship and joy were they welcomed into the warmth of Lorinand, and Celeborn treated as a great king from an foreign land; Celebrin felt at peace among these simple folk, whose eyes knew balance and gentilty, whose faces were not marred by tidings of war or loss of dear family, he envied them their simple joy. As they approached the inner sanctum of the great forest many more inquisitive folk could be seen watching from a distance, their curious eyes shining in the light of the setting sun. At the end of the path lay a wide hall, built low to the ground with the back end forming a natural hill, and the front revealing architecture and design Celebrin had not seen in many years, the stone cut tree-forms of Doriath, and the lamps of charcoal gray metal. The doorway stood open to them and from the opening one could hear the merriment of celebration and one could feel the very roar of the fire upon the their faces and see the music in the dancing light of the lamps.

The hall was wide, wider than even the halls of men, though at first it seemed the ceiling was made for Dwarves, yet once one passed the first lintel the ground dropped and created a grand hall, part above ground and part below, and above the hall children played with the fire-flies and moths that danced to the music from below. As they entered all eyes turned to them and all was silent; many faces seemed eager to run and greet the weary travelers, yet were held back until the small host of newcomers reached the far end of the great hall, where sat a familiar face, crowned in gold, and beside her a slender beauty framed in silver locks; yet beside them at the center of the table sat a richly dressed kingly figure, though his crown was made not of gold or even silver, but bronze and shimmering wood, carved with figures of the Nandor, crests and emblems, representing Denethor, and his father Lenwe, and in the center was carved the crest of Amdir, the rest remained smooth or unadorned, in hopes of a future king. That was the way of these folk, to expect sudden change and live through it unscathed. The remarkable thing of these people was not their joy amidst a world of troubles, or their secret lives away from other folk, but the stasis of their culture, unmoved, unshaken even after all those long years. The crown-bearer stood, wielding a sceptre in his hand, greeted Celeborn with a stern and firm voice,

"Welcome Prince of Doriath, you are late, as you always were to things held in your honor...welcome home gwador, I see my son has treated you well"

To which Celeborn, obviously pulling his kinship to nobility to make Amroth flinch, replied,

"Hail Lord Amdir Malgalad of Lorinand, your welcome is most appreciated...King Amdir Malgalad of the Golden wood. And yes, Amroth has greeted us kindly."

Beside the King stood the youth who escorted the small host before the king, so alike they seemed in voice and appearance that many among the arrivals swore that he was indeed the son of this King Amdir called Malgalad, rather than their lord Celeborn. None could quite say definitively as to which lineage he derived, for his eyes were that of Celeborn, yet his smile, the mysterious unknown smile was clearly that of this King before them. Such a mystery he seemed then and to all he had remained a mystery of lineage, a puzzle for future generations to solve, yet now that was secondary for food was cooked and music strung up again.

Once the festivities were under way the others separated to find their families, many of whom stood by while greetings and long sunderings were forgiven. Celebrin stood at first in the midst of the reunions and stood by his Lord's side, still holding high the banner marked with a silver tree amid three stars in a field of deep green, until another servant came and took it from him to place it among the King's banners, digging a deeper hole for the larger standard it was held on, placing it a short distance below the banner of the King. Then not knowing what to do in that time he walked from the hall out into the upper world, where the stars sparkled in the holes of the canopy. He sighed at once again finding a place of beauty, only to have its beauty diminished little by the fact he knew none with comfort to speak with at such times; mainly about thoughts that were personal to him. He climbed the side of the hall that gave rise to green grass and white flowers, and in the distance saw a figure watching the stars as he was, smoking a pipe, allowing the smoke to fly as incense around his face. The scene of that figure struck him odd, for he sat as no Sindar or Nandor would, instead his back was erect and his legs folded in a cross formation, and he faced west seeing the stars and moon disappear behind the mountain. Celebrin oddly found himself beside the figure, intrigued by his odd garb in the midst of the others, he was easily visible, for his garb was that of a Noldo, bright colors and even brighter gold interlaced among the fabric. Celebrin sat beside the smoking figure, reclining upon the slope of the hill, plucked a white flower put it to his nose and smelled; the scent traveled through time and space, into the realm of memory,

"Ele! Niphredil? It has been so long since I saw such grow again."

"Many things in this place seem to be from memory do they not?"

The figure spoke in a familiar voice, and despite the many times they remained apart, their reunion this time was calm as if expected, as if they had never departed for more than a few hours of the day. Such was how they functioned these two companions, their minds understood the joy to see the other, and understood the words that had been said many times before...for them there was no need for words, just the presence of the other, was enough. And they sat in silence until the song of the nightingales was spun throughout the night, and silent conversation melted into voiced discussion, started by the Noldo who smoked a pipe of great craftsmanship,

"The lady Galadriel could not leave the safety of Imladris without escort given by Elrond, she would not in fact leave without me it seems, for I was all she required, with so great a host. I saw the dwarves Celebrin, magnificent beings they are, so skilled with hand and noble despite their mood and stature. They made for me this pipe, though I have little use for it, I do not smoke normally, who does in these times, such a strange custom they have- learned by another culture they say-yet I find it a waste not to use such a precious gift."

"Did they trust you?"

"You are always so wary of others, it is what keeps you from speaking with others, but it is what makes you a terribly good judge of character if I may say so myself."

The two laughed at the comment, Alphindil always the one to seemingly break the silence with a shallow comment made in jest; the pipe smoke filled the air about them like tendrals of soft cloud surrounding two peaks of a mountain, shrouding it in mist. They shared the tales of where they had been, each trading off as to who saw the greater feat or the most beautiful thing they saw or touched, leading to a night of laughter and mock jests, trading barbs that were made of down, until the midnight hour passed them and sunrise flowed in between the forest's mighty trunks. The Niphredil closed its gentle petals in the light of the sun and yellow blossoms opened in the face of her, releasing a sweet fragrance, the oldest form of elanor the world had seen since the days Yavanna walked the earth and danced. There upon a hill filled with these flowers the silvan-folk saw them, one in particular saw them from above, Amroth son of Lorinand, prince among the whole of the Golden Wood, from his high talan above the hill he saw them and smiled seeing the joy of which he had never seen and returned to his work building his own home in the trees, and while he did this he sang,

"Love the morning, birds around

and you foxes on the ground

tra-lah-lay-lah-lay-lah

Aid me in this gentle work

Of my home above the earth

Tru-lah-lu-lah-lay-lu..."

* * *

And thus the days in Lorinand continued and passed slowly in the times of the earth, yet all was not paradise and soft council, for immediately after all had settled all able bodied elves were sent to work on the defense of the lands, a task headed by the three mighty lords, Celeborn, Galadriel and King Amdir.

In the workings of the days three groups toiled in the kingdom, one of Nandor people who worked among the trees, building talans high in the trees, where none could reach hook or arrow; these were guided by the hand and minds of Amroth, their prince and trusted voice of Amroth.

Another was of Sindar, from Doriath and Mithlond and Imladris, who had followed Celeborn all their years; they built the great foundations of the walls surrounding the most populated area of the woods. These walls stood high and were made by the art if Doriath, which had protected Doriath before the Girdle was wrought, and even after it broke, it kept the forces of Feanor at bay, if only for a while; these mound and wall builders were under the direction of Celeborn in the north and Celebrin in the south building into hills and valley.

And within the work of the two without was the smallest of the groups, in small forges made then where none had once been, using ovens and hearth fires as their tools were the few Noldor that chose to follow Galadriel rather than their King Erenion. These were busy in the making of weapons, swords, armor and shield; they made great doors for the wall and strong supports for the making of the great talans which could hold many guards and supplies rather than a few at a time. They were under the guidance of Galadriel and her newest aid, Alphindil of Gondolin who knew much of metal work; yet they did not in anyway build things of Noldor regalia, for political reasons much was made in bronze and silver, in the fashion of the Sindar, for deep sentiments still were fresh in the minds of many Sindar and Nandor who remembered still the golden armor of the Noldor at the time of the Kin-slaying at Doriath.

Thus did the small kingdom of Lorinand grow, by hands and minds diverse and flowing from different ways of life, and many an elf from the Northern realm came and learned of the ways of fortifying their elven kingdom. And thus while Gil-galad maintained his northern realm in the west, the forgotten kingdoms in the east rose and grew strong to stand the tide that would seem to come. And for years uncounted the three heralds of the Lords spoke often with one another and in their sharing of ideas and designs the great work of elven minds came forth, and the culture that once was considered minimally important in the grand scheme by both Noldor and Sindar became the strongest to stand against attacks by the wild men and the forces of orcs that raided the eastern side of the mountain.

Yet for all their union in friendship something happened none upon the earth intended, for late one night as the Lady Galadriel slept, dreaming of her home beyond the western shores, in dream and sleep she saw:

_The western sky grew blood red and thunder clouds in the form and sound of eagle wings came forth from the high peaks of Valionr and descended upon an island nation whose barren land and mighty hills of tombs cracked beneath the thunder of rage. A great groan came forth from the hallows of the world and the seas threw boats and mighty ships here and there, and the mighty mountain in the midst of the island nation threw fire and ash from its great height burning great temples and buildings of stone, crushing men, women and children with large rocks thrown into the upper airs. And one figure cried out from the top were a bloodied altar cracked in the shaking of the earth, a woman seeking help from the silent stars that were masked by ash and darkness. Then all was taken beneath the waves as Beleriand was in the War of Wrath, naught but the cries of agony and the rushing of waves could be heard by any, and the blood red sky crackled and rumbled thunder..._

Thus did she awake that night, covered in tears and sweat, her breath never ceasing, and when the sun reached over the bloodied skies she and her husband set out for Imladris, leaving their heralds to care for their people in that foreign land that came to be home. And thus did rumor come to the ears of all there that the world had changed for it could be seen and felt in the water and air; the rivers ran differently and the mountains seemed taller than ever before and the stars began to revolve around the sky, or rather they now moved quicker. Elves from the southern lands spoke of the horizon seeming curved and now unending, and the sea now with no destination, just endless distances of ever-moving water. The world had changed forever, and none but the elder kind could feel it; men would later sail in search of the world's end but that would be many years after, when all the Eldar knew was become history and myth, the road west was bent so that east became west and north became south...the world had changed.


	20. Before the plunge

_

* * *

Elfique: I realize it sounds odd that elves would be smoking, especially if it was a hobbit tradition, yet many others in Middle Earth smoked, Gandalf and the dwarves for example. Plus if I recall correctly Elrond gave Bilbo one of his own pipes as a gift, this is merely a beginning of a tradition that many in Middle-earth would soon develop. _

_Redha: thank you once again for the lovely review you sent to my email, i hope you enjoy this new chapter, its long but i think it works._

_Well all, its wounding down to the end, but to not worry, there are plenty of stories to tell, I must warn you I might get a bit artsy near the end, but that is only to convey the feeling of it. Enjoy and review, thanks_

* * *

Life seemingly returned to normal in the land of Lorinand, bakers and weavers made their bread and blankets, and the defenses of the land grew stronger every day that passed; none spoke of the change in the world, few would dare utter what they believed to have happened, none wished to ascertain that the road West had now been closed. Yet soon news would come from Imladris and the lands of the south; men from the West aboard large ship settled on the land, felling trees and cutting stone. Men with gray eyes and dark visages began to build mighty kingdoms in the facades of mountains; and despite their knowledge of elvish custom and tongue none were allowed in the confines of Lorinand nor Greenwood, for many among the silvan folk disliked these stranger's usage of the woods they held so sacred. Though Celeborn and Galadriel would venture forth into what was increasingly called "man's world"; many of their followers, even among the Noldor would remain in Lorinand, not wishing to become apart of the world without their borders.

Thus did Celebrin and Alphindil remain in the confines of Lorinand even while their Lords were away, for they remained as vassals of them, ruling in their place and over seeing their plans. And it was in this manner that a friendship grew between the two companions and the children of Celeborn, Amroth and Celebrian, though one would choose the Noldo and the other Teleri more to their liking. The four of them would speak into the dawning hours, of the changing world and how different it had become, for few would speak of such things. One night before the midsummer's eve, Alphindil stood upon a talan, watching the fields before him, where his companion's steed Mithgaer, ran freely upon the plain in the outskirts of the border, singing a soft tune his voice was joined by another, to his surprise he turned to see a maiden clad in silver hair smiling at him she said,

"Such a friend you are, to watch over a horse that is not your own."

"Mithgaer, is my companion as well...I have been his master as much as Celebrin."

"Regardless of that, I find it odd you are not present for your own mare's labor..."

"Celebrin has always been the master Horseman, I...I am just his helper."

"Too often you sell yourself short Alphindil, you are capable of greater..."

"Greater is not my fate, I am content to live this life I have lived, too often the greater one is or has come to be, the greater they can fall from that grace."

"Come let us not speak of such things, they weigh on the heart as lead on a boat...Alphindil, have you ever loved someone? Some one greater than you could ever expect?"

"Why does this question appear? You are too young to think of love in any matter other than familial..."

He jests at this seemingly innocent question, as was his wont to do, laugh at the seemingly unimportant, yet the she-elf beside him did not respond to this jest in like manner, only pressing the matter further,

"I am not so young to be called child...Do you...do you find me fair, not as sister or as friend, but as a maiden?"

"You know the answer to that Celebrian...Yes, I do find you fair, now what burdens your mind, to think of love at times as these? Is there one you...love?"

"...No...well I am not sure of this is proper to speak of with you..."

"He does find you fair Celebrian, be patient, the time will come for him to tell you...now sit the wind is fair this night."

The two sat on the talan, watching the racing steed, pacing the floor of the field until the quiet night was broken by the cry of a new born colt, and the whine of his father's joy in the fields before the forests of Lorinand. The new horse was as white as his sires, yet his flowing mane was the hue of bright silver caught in the moonlight that shimmers on the very brink of white, Thingalad was to be his name for though he was not gray, his eyes shone out in gray hue and in his eyes one saw again the beauty of the twilit world.

Thus did years pass though not many since the world was changed, and fires burned the woods of old in Eriador and forces of Angband penetrated the defenses of the newly founded mortal kingdoms in that land, and the witch-king in his malice destroyed much that was once pure. Though forces drove his armies back, he returned and this happened until the forces of Gil-galad drove him back and all seemed at peace again, though in the dark of the night the Lords Celeborn and Galadriel departed once again west, to a council held in Mithlond, where nothing was heard and even fewer was ever thought of. Weeks after they at last left they returned, and life seemed to return to normal, the defenses were completed and feasts were held in recognition for the completion of the great wall at the gate of the city called Caras Galadhon. The stars once again rolled over the skies, and the moon changed his shape and form, then disappeared again and again, counting the months when peace ruled in Lorinand, with Amdir at its mighty head, until upon the fall celebration of the harvest, a messenger came to the borders of Lorinand, with escort from Greenwood the Great; dressed in the silver blue of Forlindon, bearing the Feanorian star, the messenger entered the great hall of Amdir where Celeborn and Galadriel sat beside Amdir and Amroth, and while Celebrian danced merrily with Alphindil and Celebrin, to music that winded the ways of a wild river, and flew the heights of birds. All but these select few were bidden to leave at that moment, and in hale and dreary demeanor, the messenger revealed his armor, gilded and newly forged, and thus spoke before the seated,

"Lords of Lorinand and Greenwood, Lords Amdir and Oropher of the eastern realm, I speak for the High King Erenion Gil-galad, who at this present time debates with his council, concerning a coming storm, a storm that none shall escape save by unity and joined force, for the shadow of the east remains to turn these days of joy into those of sorrow. The High King bids you..."

"He bids us nothing! Lord indeed! Tell your Master, that elfling of a King, that if he is to ask anything of me then he must learn better speech!"

This sudden rage at the denouncment of a King's pride came forth from Amdir who looked as though the entire world was his own, something of an image of Thingol at the arrival of the Noldor princes who deemed themselves higher than the King of Beleriand ere their arrival. He stood now, taller than any in the room, for none would dare match such a level of primal anger; the messenger in his proud regalia bowed his head at such an elf lord, who no thrust his finger toward the door of the hall,

"Leave my sight, proud servant, I will entertain no speech from one who shows no respect for a fellow King..."

And with that the messenger left rather quickly, and the sounds of a gallop were heard until he passed the great wall, for none would dare speak. Then at long last Galadriel spoke to Amdir, rising to his height allowing the golden locks about her face to frame her fiercely wise eyes,

"Was it wise King Amdir, to make an enemy of Erenion, much of what he said was true, the time for unity has come, unity against the very shadow that threatens all our preparations."

"Too many times have elves bearing the mark of Feanor called me less than I was, Erenion is no different, let him come himself and ask my aid in battle...there will be no more discussion of this."

And with that he left the great hall and so too did Celeborn and Galadriel, hoping to reason with Amdir before all was put to ruin. Leaving the four elves silent and pondering what had happened, and silent they remained until in a fit of nervous laughter Amroth laughed, and the silence was broken. Later that night on that hill they spoke to each other the first night in Lorinand, the two companions, about the future of what was to come, of what seemed to appear out of the upper air as rain on a stormy day that was once filled with sunlight. Alphindil spoke first as they gazed into the ancient stars that were framed by the opening in the canopy of the trees,

"We always find ourselves in this place do we not Celebrin? The times of joy we know are brief as the rose that grows in winter..."

"When was the longest span of time either of us felt joy in one another's company?"

"I believe it was Mithlond"

"Ah yes for all that span of time we were free of these worldly troubles, and now, that time is being made up for...how did it come to this Alphindil? How did the victory we once overjoyed in become part of this...this long defeat."

"It is as the old as the world, this song of evil as much as the song of life and good, the stains of Morgoth can never truly be washed away, the taint in the music of the world can never be mended..."

"You have become philosophical in your time have you not my friend?"

"Come let us not jest this night...Not while all we know could fall apart, leaving the stars to watch our long dance with death and life."

* * *

And the twain sat in the company of the other, sharing no words, needing none, and they sat and watched the stars until sleep took them one by one, and they lay in no bed that night, but upon the hill of Niphredil and Elanor, beneath the home of Amroth, until the dawn brought the sound of hooves walking upon the paths of the Golden Wood, unto the very gate of Caras Galadhon, and a mighty elf garbed in golden armor wearing a crown of gold and silver upon his head, and the star of Feanor embroidered in shining gold upon his cloak of regal violet.

It was in the early morning hours when the High King Erenion Gil-galad of Forlindon arrived at the home and hall of Amdir, King of Lorinand, dressed in his golden armor, ready and poised for what seemed like a battle of swords rather than one of words or diplomatic warfare. He and his train of one followed their guide through the maze of trees, around the very walls of Caras Galadhon, and passed the high perched eyes of grey-clad guards upon talans high above them. And when he at last entered the hall of Amdir, he was welcomed with a cold and sterile reception, for though the curtosy was given him that all present stood at his arrival, Amdir ordered none to speak words of welcome until he himself spoke to the traveler. And so did the High King of the Western shores of Middle-earth enter the abode of the King of the East, in silence, deafening silence, until Amdir himself spoke at long last,

"How long it has been young Erenion, since I saw your face last, you carry much cares since the days of your youth."

"Hail King Amdir of Lorinand, I thank thee for granting me entrance into your hall."

This was spoken, surprisingly humble manner, though any could tell it pained the Proud King to speak to the elf before him in such a manner, Galadriel herself was given more respect than that in the face of Amdir. Yet it surprised all to see the proud High King bow in respect to Amdir, holding his hand over his heart and placing the pointed tip of his great spear, Aiglos, upon the ground; Amdir himself was moved by this gesture of supplementation, so moved in fact that the Sindar's cool and collected heart stumbled and he bid the Noldor,

"Please Erenion, bend not your waist at me, I see now the meaning of your actions, speak freely in my hall as you would in your own..."

"I thank you Amdir, if it please your will I shall speak to you and your hall about matters that are pressing..."

"Speak as you will, yet I must caution you, many of my folk trust less the words of a Noldo, than the words of a stone that says it is a tree."

Celebrin smiled as Amdir moved seamlessly into Quenya as if he had spoken it all his life, hiding the caution from his court, most of who knew only their native tongue. Thus did King Erenion Gil-galad begin by first addressing the entire gathering.

"People of Lorinand, Kindred from the far reaches of the East, a shadow grows south of your blessed realm, a shadow that despite any defense will swallow the entire world...A last alliance with the forces of men has been approached, and as I speak before you, a great host of men and elves marches to the plain before the fields of Mordor, the Dagorlad. There my forces have gathered, yet the power of the elves to withstand the evil of Mordor cannot withstand this very storm...unless unity can be achieved...there is no hope for tomorrow. I know, I as Noldo have no right, after all my forbearers did to your people, whether consciously or not, to seek your aid once again as the former kings did in the ages past. Yet now I do not ask you as supplicants and feudal servants to the Noldor whim, but as allies in the long battle our people have fought side by side, though not mind by mind. I beg of you, Teleri, Noldor, Eldar, kindred from ancient ties aid us your kin in this last stand against the power that seeks to undo all that we have loved, stand with me now, lest all fall to ruin..."

The hall was silent, and all eyes went from one King to the other, and Amdir looked at Erenion with eyes so deep none but a sea-farer could fathom their depth. And then Amdir stood allowing his long flowing robe to drop to the floor in a cascade of green, red and earthen hues, revealing the King to wear mail beneath his tunic and a sword present at his side. Then in one unlooked for motion, swift as an owl's flight, he drew his steel blade and touched the golden spear of Gil-galad with a grand clang of steel and sharpened metal as it cut through the air and silence. Stepping back and sheathing his sword, Amdir spoke with a great and powerful voice,

"The People of the Woods have never neglected friend in battle, nor have we ever ran from doom unending, even though despair claimed many a valiant life in the heat of battle. You have our swords and bows Erenion, we will aid you in this, as we once did before the malice of the Shadow drove our people apart."

A sigh went through the great hall, and many a knight and lord spoke words of promise to this cause that seemed once so far away, yet now burned in their hearts, as hope unlooked for returned. Yet Celebrin sighed a sigh of bittersweet remorse, for indeed though this was a valiant deed to be accomplished, part of his heart longed for peace from war. Alphindil noticed his friend's troubled mind and spoke,

"Does this war trouble you my friend? You must agree the times we live in now, call for this one last stand against the power of the darkness."

"Do not doubt my valor, my friend... in my long years, I have grown tired of war...and the life it takes from many, so many a honorable elda. Yet if it must be so, that we shall at long last be at peace through the fires of war, then so be it...I shall not loose hope, if you stand by my side as we always have in times such as these."

"I shall, until death take one of us, I shall never part your side, mellon nin."


	21. The Breath

_Longest chapter by far I think; it's mainly two chapters but in the essence of keeping the story flowing I put them together. _

_side note The time of the battle is roughly 4 years after the beginning of the War of the Last Alliance. thought I would tell you now so that I didn't have to write in "four years later..." before the secone part._

_I take special pride in this chapter for some reason, so please critique me honestly. Thanks._

* * *

A new sun arose over the hills of the Valley of Anduin, and blazing golden amber light peaked through the columns of silver-gray, trees and lit the whole of Caras Galadhon with an eerie mist of anxiousness, as if it was a morning preparing for a century of darkness. Time seemed to slow, and even the river was quiet in this time before the plunge, for all seemed to be the last moment for anything, the last meal, the last touch, the last words of solice and comfort...and love. And the morning dusk entered the hall of Amdir where sat the tall elven King and Amroth, prince of Lorinand, they were quiet, staring at the ground of this grand hall that now was empty of soul and body. It was not until Amdir looked at the growing light in the hall that he at long last spoke with a deep and sincere voice,

"Amroth, you have been at my side all the long years this kingdom has lived, at my side to defend me from foes, usurpers, and uncouth tongue, yet also to build a kingdom where there once were only sparse clans and tribes of our people. You made the people trust a king again, and gather beneath a common banner, there is no gift or reward I can give you..."

"There is no need, I did it freely, for my kin, my King, and Father."

"I am going to an unknown fate Amroth, a destiny that holds all in an unkind balance between death and life..."

"And you will return, and rule your kingdom again..."

"All my years, I have known that nothing is certain, whether in war, or in peace, or in love...the future is filled with uncertainties, so many that not even the wise can see every end. We, in the present, must decide what to do with that which is given so preciously to us, yet so sparingly, time. Even for the immortal, time is short to do what we wish, for it is filled with joy and sorrow, for some greater than most of either...it is our children that we hope for..."

"Do not sound as if you are a mortal gaining years toward eventual death, you will live forever as King of this realm."

"Amroth...I have named you my sole heir, I trust you greater than any of my council, or my knights, or my subjects. If I do not return from this Amroth, I know you will lead my people in a way that will outshine my own reign."

Before the youth could say anything the ancient king embraced this one he had called son, and no more words were said between them. And not far from where the hall of Amdir lay, was a small river that fed into the Anduin, one with sweet taste and that fed the great mallorns of Central Caras Galadhon; and upon it's banks sat Celebrin and Alphindil, two companions who had spent most of their lives together than apart, looking beyond them at groups of families bidding their farewells; despite the silence Celebrin let out a cough, purging his lungs of a vile taste to which his companion laughed robustly, and cursing the pipe he handed back to his friend, Celebrin said in between small coughs,

"Such a vile taste! I felt poisoned..."

"I agree this is an uncommon practice for any elda to undertake; I myself can handle little of it, but at least I can use such a device."

"It is of little matter anyway, such a practice will never catch on."

Alphindil looked beyond the river's edge and before him he saw a three families preparing one for battle, one a son, another a husband, and the last a brother; each was fitted into their armor by their mother, their wife, or their sister. The matriarch cupped water into her hands and gently washed the face of her husband and sons, singing a whispered blessing as her daughter and son's wife sang with her braiding their father, brother and husband's hair. The ritual he had seen many times before, the final blessing before battle, the donning of the armor, and the final kiss of the loved one dear. He had longed to know this ritual, but had no family to give him their strength, their final essence of love. He felt a gentle touch upon his shoulder and looked to Celebrin, who of all people had been his family these long years, who he loved dearer than familial bond. Celebrin's kind sea-gray eyes called him to follow and the two stood from their seats and walked to a small clearing where a tree rose in the midst of it, and above a roofed talan stood as their shared abode. Into the flet they climbed and there laid on the bed were two suits of armor, one golden yet altered to include the scarlet and forest hues of the Nandor, the other gray, with a dark tunic and the emblem of Celeborn emblazoned on the breast plate. Celebrin at last spoke,

"You and I have been one another's family, if you wish it, I will perform the Farewell Ritual for you, if your heart desires so."

"It must be done by the matriarch, and you are not..."

"Regardless. The two of us, may never see this land again, this is not like the battles we have fought before, we go now into the net of evil, unsure of what fate will befall either of us."

"Such an action would endear my heart, but...You must allow me to perform it for you as well."

"I would have t no other way."

And so a bucket of the cool river water was brought from below and the two dressed into plain tunics of white linen, and taking water into their hands they blessed the forehead of the other and the mouth and the hands and the feet, singing in whispered voices

_Guard this face, which I hold dear_

_Guard these lips, which touch mine own_

_Guard these hands that wield sword and harp_

_Guard these legs that stand firm and dance_

_Guard this breast, where beats my own heart_

_Oh hear me stars above_

_Grant my strength to him,_

_Who goes to war._

_Guard this one whom I love_

_Let no arrows pierce his heart_

_Nor no sword cleave his side_

_Oh hear me stars above_

_Guard this one whom I now bless_

_This face_

_These lips_

_These hands_

_These legs_

_This breast_

_This heart_

_These eyes_

_This spirit_

_Grant what strength was given unto me_

_Pass unto him, and give him strength_

_In the fog and fires of war_

_Oh hear me stars above_

_Let no arrow pierce his heart_

_Nor no sword cleave his side_

_Guard this one whom I love_

And when the song finished the twain held each other's sword and in presenting it to one another the last of the ritual was completed, as they did so the final blessing was spoken,

"May the sun shine upon you, and light your path through the din of war

And may the stars shine brightly when we meet again"

Then the ceremony continued as a candle was placed between them even then as the matriarch below sang the song of protection. And they fitted each other in their respective armor: chain mail and leggings, then the over armor that fitted the form of the wearer, its leaf like forms and etchings lightly touching the hands that secured them. Then the fitting of the wrist gaurds, beneath which was placed a kiss and a sprig of leaves, for Celebrin it was the leaf of the cedar, for Alphindil it was the leaf of the cyprus, to each his own home land. Then the hair was tightly bound behind the face in the braid worn only in war-time; then after, as the two companions faced one another seeing the other dressed for battle and war in an unknown place and uncertain fate, they smiled quietly at one another, seeing for the first time how each had truly grown in beauty and in wisdom since that fateful day in Avernien. Taking mud from the bank of the river below, Celebrin marked the upper forehead of Alphindil saying,

"Let none come between our bond, even death itself, for I lay my hope in you."

And Alphindil took mud from the hand of Celebrin and marking his forehead said,

"Let not death come in war, lest it take us together, to the halls beyond the seas."

Then embracing one another with the last true touch either would feel the ceremony was ended with a gentle, and seemingly final kiss, upon the lips of the leaving, signifying the possible finality of war. Adjusting the swan brooch attached to his cloak Celebrin looked at Alphindil and with a gentle sigh said,

"It is time."

Then the two departed silently to the stables where they took their horses, leaving behind the whining colt, who had not come to know the tires of war and rode to the gathering beyond the borders of Lorinand. There at the very edge of the forest stood Amdir at the head, with the King Oropher at his side, their standard bearers holding high their green and white banners. Celebrin rode to the side of Amdir, leading with him the force of Celeborn and Galadriel, wearing gray armor, and the emblem of the silver tree. Behind him rode Alphindil bearing the standard of the two Lords, one who was present, the other sent grudgingly to Imladris to safeguard the hidden refuge. As they approached the head of the host Amroth stood before them and taking their hands bid them,

"Farewell brothers, though in body I am absent and draw no sword at your side, may the strength of my spirit be with you."

"May the land of Lorinand ever prosper under your hand, brother, friend."

,spoke Alphindil as the host began to move through the trees to the outer borders, where the forest was stopped by what the mortals called magic, and beyond lay the great golden and steel host of King Erenion of Forlindon and Elendil of Eriador, Arnor, and Gondor of the south. As these great and mighty kings of legend and history looked out at the forces of the woods, the mortal exclaimed,

"Alas, the very forests go to war at our side, unless my eyes are cheated!"

For the forces of Amroth and Oropher, though armed in the gilded armor of Gil-galad, wore the rainment of their woodland realm, scarlets, greens, blues, browns, and grays of the many hues of the autumnal season, which caused the leaves of Lorinand to turn and cover the woods with Doriathic evergreen and shimmering Valinorean gold. It was in this way that the Teleri of the eastern realm joined the side of the elven forces; and a high elven chieftain, who had thought these "dark-elves" too small for battle, was silenced when he saw the sheer size of their force, for they came from Greenwood the great and Lorinand and all places between, hidden in the mists of the mountains. And Amdir and Oropher met Erenion and Elendil, and in silence rode forth from the vale of the Anduin to uncertainty and the Dagorlad beyond.

* * *

The fires of war ravaged the plain that had, at one time been home to a great and ancient forest, that had once resembled a garden, a great courtyard garden filled with fruit bearing trees, home to the fabled ent-wives, who had departed far from this world, to fate unknown by any, elf, man, or dwarf. The plain lay flat and was darkened; here and there fires burned in pits and in trenches the stench of rotting flesh filled the air. No wind came to this plain, no breeze, no rain, no burst of sunlight, nor any gentle wind to calm the thirsty war-beaten soul. This was the Dagorlad, battle plain of Mordor, and the north western realms, where the first assault was laid over what seemed like ages ago. To the North of the Morannon, the Black Gate, stood the ash stricken forces of The Alliance, for five years they fought the forces of Mordor in the Dagorlad, winning a small piece of land in each battle, with many a valiant life buried in the black soils of the Dagorlad.

Now the sea wind from far to the southwest, through the burned wood of Ithilien, carried on the back of the Anduin, flew about the great host still remaining, and though blood-stained and weary from five years of unending war, all stood tall before the vastness of the Dagorlad, where, in the distance, a great might from Mordor was gathered, and marching forward to the gathered host of the Kings of the free-peoples. And far to the right of these mighty kings, sat Celebrin upon his white steed stained with orc-blood and ash, and beside him still, Alphindil bearing the tattered banner of Celeborn and Galadriel, and behind the host of Sindar and Noldor from Lorinand, decimated but not without hope. Seeing the hosts of the black land advance with unearthly speed, Alphindil held out his hand to his companion, who took it without question, giving him the strength he felt was foundering, with whispered words he said,

"I fear death this night...or is it day? I cannot say now, it has been so long since I saw star or sun."

"Take care Alphindil, I am with you still, until the end of days, I will be at your side...my strength is your strength, until the end of all things, and beyond."

"And I with you, unending strength of my strength...it is time."

And together, as they had done many times before, uncounted ages ago and only days before, they drew swords, a great horn call was given and forth rode the Twin Spears of the Eldar, the Sickle of Doriath, and the War Swan of Vanyimar. Like flashes of silver and gold they rode their white steeds, far from comfort or home, from those they loved dearly, and those they served reverently. Into the spears of crude iron they rode, and over the fence of orcs, into the midst of battle, black and blazing; so to ran forth Amdir and Oropher, Erenion and Elendil, the sons of Kings, and rulers of realms of beauty. And the day was filled with fire and blood, cries of victory and of anguished defeat, and for a brief moment of time, hope faltered for all, as a shadow flew overhead, yet the forces of Eldar pressed forth, heading not the shades of fear and doubt, giving last strength to mortal soul. Back fell the forces of black and blood red, crude iron gave way to tempered steel, made with joy and patience and love. Arrows fell into earth and into breast, and swords cleaved to side and through limb, yet still the forces of the west pressed forth into the onslaught, until the very Gate of Mordor was seen in the distance by Erenion King; calling out to the skies he cries,

"The stars, I can see the stars...Forth children of Arda! Victory is nigh!"

And arrows flew, swords flashed in the gathering moonlight, and the feet of steed and men trampled the cries of black curses, until none left on the Dagorlad heeded the call of the Deciever to return behind the Morannon, in defeat. Thus ended the Battle of the Dagorlad, passage was won to the Black Land.

When all had settled and the dust blew to the north by means of the southern wind that came from the sea, all that stood foraged for kin and friend, who lay wounded, or dead. Celebrin stood beside Mithgaer, his gentle white steed, looking with worry into the field of the fallen, where noble blood mingled with cursed mockery of true life, he saw no standing sign of the banner of Celeborn, nor heard any call from familiar voice. Leaving the steed to a page he overturned the lifeless body of many a familiar face and passed it one, looking for only one pair of eyes and gentle lips. Worry and doubt covered his face as he rushed through the field, crying out as if one who was fey, until he heard a familiar voice singing a song of lament. He ran to this voice, yet as he thought he came closer the voice fell and broke, and as the dust parted he saw a figure with golden-brown hair, kneeling beside the body of a horse, whose coat was of brilliant white, though it was heavily stained with ash and soot. Calling out to the figure, Celebrin cried with what voice he could muster through thirst and weariness,

"Alphindil"

The figure turned his face and rising ran to the open arms of Celebrin, weeping they fell to their knees, allowing memories of death and destruction to pass away with the wind, and clear their minds of war and death, at least for that moment. When their tears had subsided, they stood above the body of the white mare, who, though valiant in life, died to save the life of her master, taking the blow of a spear even unto death. The companions mourned the horse from across the sea, who lived so long a lifetime beyond the knowledge of men.

Celebrin leaving his friend to mourn the death of his fallen mare walked a little ways about finding what loss they had suffered until his eyes came upon a grisly sight, for naught but a few strides from where he stood he saw the green banner of Amdir flowing in the wind, tattered, broken, and at last flying free in the wind, torn off from its broken standard. Beneath this tattered banner lay Amdir, King of Lorinand, so frail now, where once was a strong tree that bent not to the very storms, now lay a fallen bear who struggled to rise again. Celebrin knelt by the side of this fallen King, whom none came to aid, whose very court fell around him in an ultimate defense of the King they held so dear. Taking him in his arms Celebrin cleared his bloodied face, wiping it with his cloak, only to find that Amdir still drew breath; he was about to call for a healer but was stopped by the trembling hand of the elven lord in his arms. In a whispered and distant voice, Amdir spoke as if on the very edge of a cliff, his voice breaking now and then, and the coughing of blood stopping his words,

"Uialion...do not fear, that I should die...all I have lived for, has come to this moment...I am beyond life...so long and full a life...my so...my son should know my last and final words before I go...to the halls where my King resides, and your father waits in silence..."

"Tell me my lord, and I will tell Amroth...you have my word."

"Let between you...and life, though we immortals have it...for all the ages...of ...of the world...it is so brief and lovely a thing..."

And with a last and final sigh, the rain at long last came to the field called the Dagorlad, and so passed Amdir Malgalad, King of Lorinand. And he was buried far from the site of his death, before the border of the Dagorlad, where for many years thereafter, green grass grew again, while the whole of the battlefield slowly became a marsh. And beside him were lain his fallen court and a small distance away stood a stone marking the tomb of Turgon, mare of Alphindil Gaereledh; that day also marked the death of Oropher, King of Greenwood the Great, and he was lain beside Amdir, by his son Thranduil, who took upon himself the leadership of all the silvan host, and took Celebrin as his lieutenant. And so did that day pass, as the storm clouds washed away the blood and destruction, and cleared the air of ash, before the day came, and with it the Siege of Bara-dur.

* * *

_The ceremony of farewell was all devised in my head, though I was inspired by the Tale of Aldarion and Erendis, in the Farewell ritual the wife had to enact before a voyage. _


	22. The end of an age

Dark were the days that followed, ash and smoke filled the air; the Morannon that once stood menacing as dark black teeth piercing the rock beneath it now lay in ruins beneath the feet of Elendil, and four leagues beyond it the encampment of the Alliance came to an end. It had been seven years since the Siege of Barad-dur began, and the great king of Eriador stood facing the tent that held the body of his slain son, Anarion, who by the arts of the Men of the West, was preserved until proper burial. Silently this king mourned his youngest, standing as a statue of carved marble, the wind that entered the gap where once stood the gate of Mordor could not chill his weeping heart, he looked as a tree stands amid a storm, silent, tall unrelenting to the torrents that beat all down around him. A small distance away his son, Isildur, knelt on the ground, holding the sword of his brother dearly as if he were holding a child. The sword, wrapped in a blood-stained tunic, sang no more song of blood thirst, it was muted as the youth who once held it so skillfully, and now was cold steel, with no life, no future, a relic for generations in future days to look at, and question who was it that held such a thing, only to receive no answer from their parents, who knew not the songs of old.

Beyond this private ceremony, a large green tent was erected on a small hill-side in the center of the encampment; before it flew the banners of Erenion, Oropher and the standard of Elrond half-elven. Within sounds of debate could be heard, clear Sindarin tongue lashed out at stern Quenya dialect, yet hushed were these voices at that moment; the day was a day of mourning, not strife, many fell in the last breech of the wall and the surrounding lands, now all that lay before them were the very slopes of Orodruin, its silence almost deafening, making its shadow of fear and terror all the more present. Within a harsh tongue of a Sindar King resounded,

"This silence by the forces of Sauron warns me that we linger where we should press on..."

"Thranduil, we cannot press on with the weight of these losses on the hearts of our soldiers, we must give them time to mourn."

The voice of Elrond stood out among the gathered, he had grown in stature among them, regarded as an equal to Erenion himself, even the proud son of Oropher respected his knowledge, at times. To the side sat Celebrin, pondering thoughts he had thought he would never think again: troop placement, words that would inspire hope, words that would console widows, words to cheer the despairing. Around him the debate went on, Thranduil would at times ask for his support, yet his word meant nothing to these High folk, they cared not for the musings of a servant turned lieutenant, and he thought similarly...what words of wisdom could he give to the wise? Thranduil again retorted the comment made by the half-elf with an accusing bite of tongue,

"Did you wait to mourn my Father? Or Amdir? Or the losses my people suffered in the first Sieges of the Morannon? Do not tell me Elrond that you would wait to mourn your own losses, when my troops have had to mourn theirs as they fought to the death..."

"Thranduil is right."

Surprisingly this unlooked for support came from Erenion himself, who now stood tall among the gathered, with a stern and unwavering voice he said,

"We cannot remain while the very forces around us seek to throttle us in our sleep, victory was ours this past year, yet must we come so far to think we are safe in the very den of the wolf we have come to slay?"

"But my lord..."

"I know what you would say Elrond, but the wisest choice for us to take is to press on, we cannot mourn the dead, with half our minds on battle...we press on, tomorrow, we shall fight for the slopes of Mount Doom."

With two kings against his word Elrond submitted to their judgment, and all this Celebrin watched, hearing the song of mourning outside in the blowing wind. He walked out of the tent, looking into the sky, he wondered if it was day, or if it was night, he could only see that by the firelight from the camp that many were ready for sleep; already a year they had lived in the confines of the Mountains of Ash and Shadow, their daily routines made all the more monotonous, with no sound of bird or joyful flute. Around him youths he had known to be so carefree frowned more than they smiled, they became so serious beneath the ever-present heat, which beat down on them as if they were swords being hammered in the smithies. Their bodies, when out of armor, drooped and their proud elven forms ached at the pains of war in this heartless land, before him Celebrin saw the makings of the orc-kind, deprived of light and air, he knew now how the legend was true...that orc and elf were of same descent.

He shuddered at this thought, straightened his back and went to his garrison's camp, where Alphindil strung sorrowfully at a wooden harp, signing a song of the ancient world. Others around him sat on the ground, listening intently to the lay he sung, of an elven maiden who left her safety for the love of a mortal man, a journey that took her to the very depths of the earth and into the halls of the dead, and into life again, yet lost among the fate of the eldar. Celebrin leaned upon a tree, remembering the same maiden, dancing around him, allowing him to play with her skirts in his infancy, as his mother sewed one of her dresses she had torn in her wanderings through the woods. He remembered her gentle face and star-lit eyes, and her raven hair, falling to the ground around him as she played with him, her dark tresses mingling with his own small whisps of nightshade hair. The memory made him tear in the eyes, and a small clump stuck in his throat, as the song ended, and the knowledge of her fate tore the dream away, until he returned to the present world, seeing Alphindil place the harp down and the group that had gathered head to their tents for uneasy dreams and prepare for the uncertain tomorrow. He moved over to his companion and sat on the ground beside him,

"You left out the end, mellon nin."

"I did not want to leave them with such a sad ending, better to have them dream about her return from the Halls of Mandos, than to know of her final end."

"And what of our end, old friend, what song shall we be remembered in?"

"In the song of the Twin Spears...until the ends of time."

Alphindil's gentle jest made Celebrin smile, and silently they watched the fire die out, and then returned to their own tent to sleep and dream of tomorrows, when they would dwell by the sea and the woods, when all was over and peace returned to their home in Ennor; this promise they made, to seek out a land fit for both songs, the sea and the woods.

* * *

Before them lay the great expanse of Mordor and in the distance loomed the very Mountain that caused the sky to be veiled from neither sun nor moon, darkness lay about them and the stillness was thick in the air. There stood the very forces of Mordor, marching in blocks, their crude iron clanging to the beat of metal drums, as the details of their torn and mangled visages became visible to mortal eyes. Their crude and cruel tongue sang curses and songs of cruelty, yet before them lay a bright golden host, beside one of cool steel, and banners waving in the heated wind. In the center stood Erenion and Elendil, and to either side of them Elrond and Isildur, each with a great host behind him; and to the farthest reaches stood Thranduil, arrayed in his Silvan gold, behind him stood Celebrin and Alphindil, and the force from the woods. Youths had grown in these times of war, husbands, brothers, and sons were lost in this fateful journey that led them to the very steps of Mount Doom; yet now they stood, they who had not seen bloodshed or saw it long ago, to whom war was a distant memory from a time long ago, when the shadow of despair lay heavy upon them.

Celebrin stood firmly behind Thranduil, who having no time to weep for his father, had become cold to all other feelings, and who now stood frighteningly still, as if he were already dead and the lifeless form of a body was left to follow his departed spirit. Beside Celebrin a young elf shivered in his fear, and the standard he bore wavered though no mighty gust came to do so. Seeing his plight Celebrin smiled at this most inopportune time and laying his hand on the youth's shoulder asked him

"What chaos forces this upon you young one? Surely war you have seen before this day?"

"F...forgive me Master Uial, I fear for my life now...a...all I have seen, does not compare to this...In my fear I am ashamed to be in your presence"

"Fear is the gift of the brave young one, even now my heart is fearful, for now who can say to what end we go, this is the end of the world we know...nothing will be as we left it, but changed forever, in this my fear resides... I have seen many wars, and many who were brave perish, but I tell you, now is the time to remember most, what you cherish, what you hold dear, it will be all the courage you need. Live as though your last days were near, what do you cherish young one?"

"M...my wife, she had just given birth before I left, a boy, a beautiful boy, his name is Haldir."

"I envy you, the life you will return to; you will live this through, I can see it in your eyes, father of Haldir of Lorien."

The youth smiled as Celebrin soothed his nervousness, and the beats of the iron armor clashed on, until they came to an arrows reach, silence filled the air and choked the lungs of the standard bearers, who could not breathe to blow their horns. And Alphindil stood beside his companion of long years, and silently they stood in the presence of the other, until the breath before the plunge, when a flute could be heard in the silence, a flute from a Shepard boy beyond the high mountains, so distant, so fair and faint. Taking the hand of his friend and companion Celebrin looked into the eyes of the only family he had left in the world east of Mithlond, in tears and cracked voice he said at long last,

"What ever happens this day, I love you Alphindil, I will be with you at your side as I have always been."

"You give me strength, even now amidst despair, whatever happens, I will not leave you to live a life alone in this world."

The breath was taken, the horns and trumpets blown and drums rang out as iron clashed with armor of steel, gilded and forged by hearts and minds of true sentience. Swords were drawn, and arrows let fly as generals and Kings called out as armies of orcs and trolls and men raced towards them. Thus did the final battle of those days begin, in such a way as the age before ended, unlooked for and in the fires of war.

Hours turned to days, and still the fighting continued, fire rained from the mountain of doom, and great shadows rushed into battle taking many a brave soul to fear and death. Yet for all the sorcery and power the mountain wielded the forces of the Alliance pierced through like an arrow through wood, giving way here and there yet at the pinnacle was Erenion, High King of Forlindon, and beside him was Elendil, calling out the name of his fallen son and his former land that lay once in beauty in the center of the great ocean. The star above Gil-galad's eyes shone out before the forces of men and elves, as a beacon of hope and a star before them, even as Earendil had when he fought his last battle upon the plains of Arda. Hope seemed near, and victory could be tasted, for Erenion stood on the slopes of Orodruin, and with his elven sight saw the gate to the high tower Barad-dur. He laughed as one hale for nothing stood between him and the door of Sauron, he called out to those before him,

"Let fly your arrows, let sing your swords, victory is ours!"

Then Sauron came forth.

Like a great shadow, he stood tall before the figure of the high king, his dark armor gave no glimmer, nor his helm or gauntlet. Of pure darkness he was, not fair as he had once been, all that glowed about him were his terrible eyes, lit with a great and malevolent flame. He lifted high his mighty mace, as Morgoth had to Fingolfin in an age long passed, yet fear could not be found in the heart of Erenion Gil-galad, High King of Forlindon, swiftly he dodged the blow that pierced the volcanic rock below and rose his spear to the great helm of Sauron, and Aiglos, the great spear of Erenion Gil-galad, pierced one of the mighty eyes of Sauron, and the once beautiful Maia gave out a cry, shrill and cold, freezing all to fear, even his worst of servants. Yet the fire of rage about him could not be subdued and with his hand he held the throat of the High King, and all saw the ring, wreathed in flame and blazing forth with hatred and malice. All heard the cry of the High King, whose crown and spear fell to the ground, and whose last breath was uttered in flame. All saw this happen, yet Alphindil saw his Lord and King, cry out in pain, and a flame leapt in his heart, a flame that remembered the battle cry of Turgon before he fell in his Tower upon Gondolin, and the mighty lay of Fingolfin. Within him a fire was awoken, and he left his sword in the body of an orc, and becoming fey he took up the fallen spear Aiglos, and pierced the armor of Sauron. Yet no great cry was given by the Lord of Mordor, the ring upon his hand blazed a fiery red and the great mace in his hand swept around, and landed upon its desired mark. The still body of Alphindil fell a large distance away, and no life could be seen from any sign it gave.

Celebrin cried out, having seen all that transpired, and without care for his own life, he ran through the throng of orcs and elves and men, pushing away all bodies surrounding him. And in tears he came to the body of his companion of long years, tearing at his raven hair, and the tunic he wore. The body felt cold, too cold for death or life, and the eyes that once blazed with joy and happiness were no filled with nightmarish silence. Taking up his sword he stood above the lifeless form of his companion and faced rushing orcs; holding his sword close he cried out,

"Come and meet my wrath!"

Becoming fey and uncontrolled he cleaved into the side of the first and in rage and anger he protected the lifeless form beneath him, caring not what arrow pierced his side, nor what iron cut his skin. In this way he fought on until a great wind blew him to the ground and a great shrill cry went forth with the wind. Lying beside his unmoving companion he took his hand, and wept, as all the world around him was broken, and the great tower of Barad-dur fell to the ground. As the cries of victory rang out and the orcs cired in fear, and all the world seemed to end; the world was silent for Celebrin, as he wept as he had in childhood long ago, he cried out to the form lying in his lap. In that place, as shouts of joy surrounded and trumpets rang out, and the clouds of Orodruin were broken revealing the blanket of stars above, the brightest, Earendil blared in the west. And Celebrin wept alone, holding close the cold body of Alphindil, letting all the world pass away, knowing only despair and hopelessness in this new age of the world.


	23. Return home

The charcoal sky let loose its torrents of heavy rain, causing the great valley of Gorgorath to fill with soiled water, and the great monstrous mountain of Orordruin slept an uneasy slumber. The forces of Gondor and Eriador had gone, none were left save the last remaining forces of elves, without word or council they were left to cleanse the land that become so defiled, the Alliance had ended, with the Ring of Power upon the neck of King Elendil's son, Isildur, an "heirloom" of his deceased father. Towards the location of the Former Morannon, was erected a large tent of canvas and sails, in which lay a field of beds, lined from make-shift wall to make-shift wall. Drapes separated the minimally wounded to the critical and severe; within healers worked tirelessly to treat the wounds of war, some had not done so in many an age. Celebrin looked at the recently made carts, filled with the bodies of the slain, wrapped in cloaks and prepared for a journey, he looked so intently at them, each were separated as to their destinations: some for Mithlond and Forlindon, others for Greenwood, and for Lorinand, each were marked with the banners of their former kings, though only that set for Greenwood still had a king. In another wagon were laid the swords and armor of those who had fallen before that day, and deep in its recesses lay the armor and spear of Gil-galad, in a place of reverence for all to mourn as it passed in the coming procession to the western shores of Middle-earth.

And Celebrin moved his eyes from this to that, inspecting each movement; so still he sat he seemed as a carving of stone made to ward off any orc that tried to return to the black land, and yet if one looked into his deep eyes they could see wandered the realms of memory and questioned the purposes of life, for they had not the gaze of one watching around him but in the realm of sleep and thought. Silently a foot moved breathlessly across the black brittle rock, shaking free small stones from their loose foundations, the small clatter awakened Celebrin from this dream-like state, forcing him to turn and see a Noldorin healer standing anxiously before him. His earthen hair was tied behind his head yet here and there stray strands stuck out from their braids, his face seemed so worn from long ages without air and wind; he breathed heavily an air different from that which was filled with the smell of blood and bitter herbs, and he smiled though his eyes spoke more words than anything he could have said. Celebrin stood looking first toward the tent then to the eyes of the healer before him, sternly he asked,

"What news do you bring?"

"We have done all we could..."

"But?"

"But I am afraid, he will not last the night, the wounds are to severe..."

In a fit of unlooked for anger and surprising strength, with watery eyes and heaving breath, Celebrin reached for the weary healer and held him by the forearms, and in a rushed voice spoke,

"Then you have not done all you could! I was told you were the greatest among the healers and new exclusively of healing dark wounds! YOU HAVE NOT DONE ENOUGH!!"

A firm hand pulled Celebrin from the healer and turned him around, holding his fierce hands and empassioned strength in check; Celebrin's fiery gaze was met with stern gray, and dark hair almost as raven as his own flowed in the oncoming wind. The face uttered two unmoving and emotionless words,

"Leave us."

As steps of retreat were heard, Celebrin forced himself free of the dirt-clad hands, saying with harsh yet sorrowful words upon the very edge of tears,

"Unhand me Noldo..."

"Calm yourself Lieutenant! What action is this that an officer such as yourself, shows to his men? Anger and passion? Despair and sorrow? These are actions unbefitting of one such as you..."

"And you, _my lord_, what action is this that you mourn not for one whom you loved as father, friend, and king, though you know his passing to be certain? Do not judge me when you deny the urgings of your heart to weep and show some compassion for one you loved dearly!"

"That is enough!"

Elrond's voice was harsh and hollow, even his hand raised a little intended to strike at the insolent remark, yet for appearance and dignity he lowered it to the hilt of his sword that hung below it. His hesitation was apparent in the eyes of the Sinda before him; with a gesture that told the other that he took no pride in this conquest, Celebrin calmed what nerves he could and spoke softly though with a tone of earthly wisdom and a touch of deepening sorrow,

"It is Sindar to mourn openly the ones we love, when the battle is over...even if it is in anger, you Noldor do not know this...so we may seem rash and wild to you. But it is how we have survived the loss of so many dear ones in our life and not become overwhelmed with despair...excuse me."

With that Celebrin strode quickly away and entered the tent where the sick and dying lay, coming to the bed where a pale figure, upon the very edge of death, whose ivory face was framed with brilliant golden-brown hair, and he sat by the bedside, unnoticed by the one who slept in a death-like sleep. Now overcome with sorrow and hidden by linen drapes, he wept, and from below his heart he utters moans of sorrow in a voice so low, many who slept then dreamt of caverns beneath the mountains where the springs of rivers were born. And uneasy sleep took him as he sat by the bedside of his companion, whose eyes would not open, and in the dream world the veil of reality was broken and he saw:

_A sky ablaze with silver stars upon a sable ground, and amid them flew falling stars each with their aim to the west where the sun began to set, beneath him was the ever moving ocean where no land could be seen from either view, and he stood as a spectre upon the waves of the sea. And above him he saw so many lights moving and flying here and there, each flying by him on their winding journeys toward the falling of the sun. One among the brightest fell from the sky in red unbridled flame and into the depths of the ocean, where after he saw a large sea creature carry it back into the sky upon its back and as it flew high upon the stream of water spewed by the mighty beast, by its own power, it flew in a blaze of red, gold and bronze into the western sky. And before him he saw a figure kneeling upon the floor of the moving ocean waves, weeping holding a star that feel from the night sky, his golden-brown hair flowing in the astral wind, and his knowledge of anything around him secondary to what he now held in his cupped hands. And Celebrin knelt beside the Fear of his companion, whose tears ceased as he saw a familiar face, and in joy he tried to embrace him, yet one being only mind the other soul and mind no contact could be made and they passed through one another as one passed through mist that enters the valley on a cold winter morning. The voice of the Fear spoke as if speaking into an echoing canyon or the base of a hollow well,_

_"My life is spent, I cannot live life now so marred by fate, nor can I embrace you farewell.."_

_"Nay my friend, your life is not spent, for you have not made the last journey to the land west of where we now stand...you remain with me, as you promised."_

_"I cannot remember life, it is fading fast, I am called to the shores of white sand and clear blue water..."_

_"Do not heed the song! Remain here with me...Do not leave me alone as a new age begins..."_

_"YOUR TIME IS TEMPORARY, IT IS NOT YET TIME TO BE PARTED BY DEATH!!"_

A great booming voice came from the depths of the sea and a great wind from the high heavens blew a large crest of water upon the scene and the dream was washed away even as the moon rose over the horizon, leaving...

Celebrin breathing heavily gasping air from the shock of the dream, thinking himself doused in water he took a towel and wiped his face only to find the small drops of dew. Seeing the morning sun peer through the white linen around and the large fabric of the tent, he remembered the words of the healer and ran to the bed-side of his friend. No movement came from the bed, his color pale as the night before, yet now his hair lost its gleam, and no mist of breath came from his mouth. Celebrin whispered to himself, with a voices rising to desperation,

"It was not time...You cannot have left...not like this!"

He wept again that morning, grabbing hold of the hands of the pale form and kissing them, caressing the cold face as it clung to life, and in a final act of love and friendship he kissed the mouth of the companion he knew for an age first as a child, then as brother, then beyond the bonds of kinship and friend, and whom he held dear for much of that past age, only to feel a small breath of warmth return to his mouth, a breath that was not his own...or was it his false hope, his last hope in a time when all had changed and was unmade in the world? He lay his ear close to his companion's breast, and heard nothing, in this his heart was broken, not by fact but by the breaking of his last and final hope... yet in the air he smelled a crisp sweet smell, a smell he smelled once for a brief time in Mithlond long ago, a smell known as athelas called so by the men across the sea, a smell that he long kept in forgotten memory. Its sweet caress only embittered that morning as he sat in desolation, holding the cold hand of the pale form upon the bed and as in a final desperation whispering,

"Come back..."

Then he felt a pulse of blood beneath the surface of the palm, and a small almost inaudible sound was heard from the figure before him, and beads of sweat dotted its brow, paleness retreated some and his once unmoving breast began to heave as if being drawn back from a nightmare into the world of the daylight. And in a sudden burst of life the pale figure sat up in his bed and cried to the heavens as his first breath filled his lungs, yet his cry was of anguish and unending pain; his body convulsed and twisted in pain, as his companion and whatever healers were present held the seizing body to the bed. The fit did not end until a few moments hence and the figure once again lay dormant as a stone yet now breathing easier, though pain was present upon the sleeper's face. The cry awoke many in the early morning light, even the Lord Elrond who entered the tent ready as it seemed for battle, only finding puzzled healers and awakened wounded. He strode to the place where Alphindil slept, and began inspecting the new signs of life, the sweat upon his forehead, the renewed breathing of hollow air, and the unintelligent mumblings of one lost in a dream world, looking up from his inspection he saw first the Sindar worried at these new signs, smiling gently he said,

"His fever has broken, it is a sign he fights for life now...What happened?"

Celebrin who stood now anxious and worried, stumbled through is words,

"I...I know not exactly...a...sweet fragrance filled the air, and with it...came this..."

Elrond's gaze moved to the pot of boiling water where incense-like steam arose filling the air with the cool fresh smell, looking at each of the healers he spotted an elf seemingly of Nandor origin, who looked from here to there, yet stood closest by the pot.

"You there...were you the maker of this broth?"

The Nandor spoke no Quenya as he was addressed in, but in a rough ancient dialect of Sindar, used seldom by the silvan folk, he responded looking at Celebrin imploringly, filled with fear in his eyes,

"My Lord Uial, please I meant no harm to your companion...I...I came...and found him cold as mountain ice...I thought he had passed...I meant no harm! I meant no harm!"

Celebrin responded going to the elf who had by this time dropped to his knees seeking mercy for an action he never intended to cause,

"Calm yourself Father of Haldir, breathe and speak plainly."

"I...I found you asleep by your friend and saw how the early morning chill left drops of dew on his face, I felt his skin...and felt no heat...I thought him dead...I thought it proper to...to...give him...a sweet fragrance as his soul left the world...that plant we have only used for such occasions, as it eases the passing of a loved one, and only recently."

Celebrin smiled and embraced the youth before him rising him to his feet, surrounded by many who could not understand the words he spoke,

"By your compassion, young one, you have saved his life. I am indebted to you to a limit you shall never know..."

Elrond looked puzzled at the conversation that took place and in common Sindarin Celebrin told all what had conspired, to which the Noldor healer exclaimed,

"Ele..."

Elrond himself looked to the healer and in Quenya said with a wiry smile,

"It seems there was more to do than even you realized, healer."

Turning to Celebrin he said,

"Bid him tell us where he found the athelas...It seems we are in need of it more than any thought we would be."

And while that day many were refreshed by the sweet smell of the herb, some remained in states of ill-sleep, and would toss and turn in their phantom like dreams. And for all the virtues the plant had, some remained beyond the care any there could provide, and so the tent of the ill became emptier and emptier, until only ten remained confined to bed and ill-sleep, of these was Alphindil, whose side was never left by Celebrin and the Nandor who brought him from beyond the darkness. Preparations were made to at long last leave the borders of that accursed land, and what crude wagons were left, were made into transports for those too wounded for journeying, pulled by oxen given by the King of Gondor as a last and parting gift to the fair folk. And from that land they rode, Elrond and his train ahead, then Thranduil and his following and at last Celebrin and what was left of the force from Lorinand and Greenwood the great; only a third of a force who left their homes seeking war with the Dark Lord. Holding the renewed banner of the King Amdir rode the Nandorin elf, whose name was lost to memory and time, at the head of the train, and Celebrin rode beside the wounded transport, playing songs on his flute and harp, trying to ease the spirits of the one who suffered from night terrors of war and death.

And at last the train came to the very borders of the Dagorlad where the great company at last parted ways as Elrond and his force crossed the Anduin, leaving the elves of the East to mourn their fallen kings. Celebrin rode beside the marked grave of Turgon, where Mithgaer, his noble steed, knelt in solemn mood beside the spot where laid his mare and mother of his son. And in silence he left the horse to mourn, and sat beside the bed of Alphindil, telling him of all that he saw as they left the lands of death and entered lands where life had returned, lands they came by not but eleven years ago, in an age that seemed centuries behind them now. The land had changed: grasses grew where rocks stood looming in despair; birds returned to nest in the marshlands that began to grow beneath their feet. Yet the sky still made the land seem somewhat solemn, a memorial to they who passed away and lay in tombs of earth.

And the journey continued from that day forth, until they crossed the Great River Anduin and entered the vast land called Calenardhon, and continued until they came within sight of Lorinand in the spring of the season, when new leaves covered the canopy and the golden of autumn fell to the ground and scattered the floor with golden light.

* * *

_Yes I realize Elrond is an elf of both Sindar and Noldor lineages, but to Celebrin who holds on to such distinctions Elrond was not raised Sindar therefore he is not of them at least in mind. _

_I am going from the pressumption that few of the Nandor knew the virtues of athelas, only its smell, since it came from across the sea. _

_More interesting things coming soon as it is nearing the end, only two more chapters to go..._


	24. A new age begun

_I'm sorry I lied, there are more than two chapters ahead, possibly three more including this one, but it will come to an end mark my words...until the sequel, anyway, enjoy._

* * *

As they approached the outer borders of the land, naught but a few steps beyond the tree line a shout of acclamation was heard from above and an elf-maiden dressed in a light mail shirt and holding a light bow slid down a small rope and ran into the entering host immediately embracing one of the soldiers who dragged his weary body into the forest; crying and laughing of joy the two fell to the ground in a tight and warm embrace. Soon a great horn call came from above and figures appeared from trees and from behind ferns and hills; women, children, maidens and sons too young to march with fathers and elder brothers appeared from the very shadows of the woods. Laughing and joyous reunions were abound, horses were dismounted, and standards dropped in rejoicing and renewed love and embrace. Yet still Celebrin rode forth, behind him the wagon of the wounded, smiling a small wiry smile upon his lips, happy to know he no longer need to use his eyes or ears in fear of attack, yet worry dotted his mind and a frown covered his face as the wounded were brought to the main House of the Healers, where stood elves with white tunics and green leggings, all of whom ready to accept whoever came with illness or wound.

The great hall stood at the base of a great mallorn, its curved, tent-like roof blending to the slope of the trunk as if it sprung naturally from the very tree it was built around, and from the roof of the building rose a spiraling staircase to the very canopy of the mallorn, that clung to the side of the silver tree and was lit by lamps of white imperishable light. Such a warm and welcoming place had never before been seen by the likes of any, even among the elves of the elder days when the great halls of Gondolin and Doriath were true in form as in legend. As Celebrin dismounted he heard a voice in jubilation call to him from behind him, and as he turned he saw a maiden dressed in a brilliant white gown, whose hues reflected the very lamps of the stars; she ran over the roots of trees and through the mass of elves and clung to him as if she had not seen him in an age or more, into his ear she whispered,

"Welcome home, Celebrin, my brother in friendship."

"Thank you, Celebrian, my little gwathel..."

"My eyes rejoice to see you again, mother will be glad to know you are well. Tell me, where is Alphindil, I mean to show him how much Thingalad has grown since..."

Her face became filled with worry as she mirrored the expression shown by her friend, the look of worry and doubt, one of sorrow and sadness, with clenched mouth and eyes of sorrow; she then, fearing the worst, breathed deeply a breath of deep air, mouthing in despair words broken by grief,

"What happened...where is he?"

Looking at her imploring face, he wished to tell her he had died... wished to ease this uncertainty with certainty...in this way it seemed easiest, so that she need not be as he was: questioning the future so often that he dreaded each rest he would take; fearing there would be nothing in the morning, seeing a loved one so dear wreathed in fever and pain, knowing any medicine ushered by his hands was in utter vain. So much he wished he could spare this one he came to know as sister such pain he had felt, yet her eyes, her cool gray eyes beckoned him to speak and to her face he could not lie and spare pain. In a voice broken by age and sorrow he spoke trying to regain a semblance of dignity amid all who stood there,

"He lies among the wounded, near the doors of life and death, his eyes have not seen the day from his pain-filled sleep...I...I know not what to do."

Into her arms she took him, her compassion overruling her wish to weep, knowing how strong he had to become, for the entire length of the journey, showing no remorse for friend or dear one who lay slain in battle, remaining civil so that others could mourn and worry little of where they stepped. And he wept freely regardless of who saw, and mourned the passing of innocence he thought he had regained, and he mourned the passing of joy and laughter. Behind a tree she embraced him as he wept and regained his composure, their mutual tears drying as they wept for joy and sorrow. He told her all that came to pass from the moment they bid her farewell, to the very hour they came before the borders of Loriannd. In her arms he drew strength from some hidden corner of his being. In silence she listened until he came to a closure, then rising to her feet she bid him,

"Show me where he is..."

From behind the tree they went forth towards the Hall of Healing, and in the masses of elves they found the small bed of Alphindil, who by this time had been washed and clothed in new linens; though he looked healthier in form and hue of skin, his face was wrought in pain and beads of sweat clung to his forehead, where wounds began to heal, slower than anticipated. His breath was irregular and he turned in sleep as if in a nightmare, and in a sudden fit of terror and dream he sat up in his bed and began to fight invisible foes, crying out curses and screaming as one fey without hope of life; he tore at his tunic and at his hair, pulling gentle golden brown tresses and throwing them vainly to the floor. Yet he soon returned to near peaceful sleep and now breathed regularly in heavy gasping breaths. Celebrian covered her mouth at this grisly sight, yet her eyes remained fixed on him until the fit ended and Celebrin returned to her side, and who began ushering her toward the door,

"You should not have seen this..."

"On the contrary Tathirilion had she not, I would not have seen it."

From the door came a voice filled with age and deep sea-like beauty, a voice that came from a golden-crowned figure who stood as a warrior-queen, poised for battle: her sleeves rolled up behind her elbows, her hair tied behind her head, and her face...her face that none could forget in all their years of life upon the earth, ready as it seemed to walk the cold of the north and find the very edge of the world. Celebrin in instinct bowed low before her saying only,

"My Lady..."

Before he spoke any other word she came before him, taking his hands and looking into is eyes she spoke with a kind voice filled with compassion,

"You must rest...the journey was long...he is in other hands now."

"I cannot...I cannot find rest while he cannot."

"Then find strength, for the new king knows not the fate of his former, and must hear it from friendly voice."

And with that Celebrin took one last longing look at Alphindil and the two who stood around him studying the wounds beneath the tattered bandages, and, turning on his heel reluctantly, walked out of the House.

And on he walked going first to a satchel he kept on Mithgaer, removing from it a small artifact wrapped in a brown cloak; and he walked on until he came to the mound of Amdir, the great hall of the king in life, yet no life did he find in that place, nothing but an empty dark hall, where a hearth was kept by a lonely she-elf who looked at him in reverent silence. Taking a moment of thought he turned instead to the hill of Niphredil and Elanor and before a great and mighty tree he saw a small table surrounded by elves in white and gray robes, looking at scrolls of paper and every so often gazing and pointing to the canopy above and toward the direction of the King's hill. One among them looked up at the weary traveler who by some "magical" hidden strength stood straight and almost-lordly despite his soiled armor; the one who looked up wore a silver circlet around his head, adorned with a small green gem and a long gray cloak embroidered with the crest of Celeborn and Galadriel, and bordered with deep blue regalia with markings of the silvan folk. Looking at Celebrin he smiled, and bidding his group of advisors away he ran to him and embraced him,

"My brother"

He began to say, yet Celebrin stopped him and spoke in kind yet solemn words,

"Though my heart rejoices to see you again Amroth, I fear...I fear I am the bringer of sorrow, yet was chosen so by one so loved by you..."

A look of worry covered Amroth's smiling face, looking into the eyes of Celebrin trying to discern any foreknowledge of what he was about to say,

"In sorrow I bring this to you my brother, and news of the death of the Lord Amdir, King of Lorinand..."

From his hands he procured the crown of Amdir, its silver gleam lost by the stains of blood, yet its heraldry was accentuated by the loss of life and light from its ancient form. Taking the crown in his hand Amroth looked intently upon it and, kneeling on the hill, holding it close to his breast that hid his shattered heart, he cried out to the darkening skies and wept bitter tears, his body shaking in the consoling arms of his friend, who at that time knelt beside him and took his grieving heart into his own. As Amroth wept bitterly, Celebrin found strength to not reduce to tears and unending sorrow, instead he found words coming from his mouth as if from time and memory of one long ago,

"'Let none come between you and life, though we immortals have it for all the ages of the world it is so brief and lovely a thing...mourn not my life for it was well lived, rejoice in your days when love will find you, and live life, my son, live life', these were the last words of Amdir Malgalad, King of Lorinand, as he lay in my arms and breathed his last."

With tears streaming down his face Amroth looked in wonder at his friend at his side, his face turning from sorrow to bittersweet joy, in a whisper he said simply,

"Hannon le."

* * *

And life seldom returned to normal in many parts of the Golden Wood, homes were emptier, children suddenly fatherless, or with out siblings, wives without husbands and lovers holding lifeless pillows and mourning the loss of love. In the dark a soldier who had returned would cry out into the dark as nightmarish dreams woke them from uneasy sleep, yet whoever lay beside them would brings them to rest again, and would sing songs of peace, until their thoughts of evil melted into memories before the war. Guards watched the valley around, and the forest within, not truly trusting the report of the defeat of Sauron, and the retreat of the shadow riders.

And in the dark a horse was unsettled and seldom slept, though the stable hands tried their best techniques to get him to; he would refuse their medicines and their trained hands, sometimes becoming wild and stomping around in anger and frustration. Until one day Celebrin came to his stable, and, seeing the eyes of his steed and friend of long years, his heart wept for him, this valiant horse Mithgaer, a _mearas_ from the old north, an ancient proud steed broken to tears and sorrow. And Celebrin took him to the very southern borders of the land, singing a song beneath the trees, until they came to the open land of the south that led to Calenardhon. In silence he looked deep into the eyes of Mithgaer, stroking his gentle hair that had known life beyond the ages of men, who had come from the wide western seas remaining young and wild as a colt, however now he looked so aged, so old as an old man whose long life has left him without family or spouse. Crying himself Celebrin removed the reigns from the horse's noble head, and speaking to him in ancient Sindarin in a whispered and compassionate tone, he faced his horse's head to the south then to the east saying,

"Go to her, find peace where you must my old friend...Go to her..."

And the horse tossed his head into the wind, after caressing Celebrin in the way horses have done for thousands upon thousands of years, and he galloped off beyond the starlit valley toward the river Anduin and out of the eyesight of the elf he had traveled with for all his long life, and he galloped out of memory and song, into legend and myth, a white unblemished steed who had only two sires in his life: one in Lorinand, another at another time, in another place, whose far-reaching line led to glory and renown in the age to come.

* * *

Few days passed since the return of the host from the War, when in the House of the Healers surrounded by two sleeping forms and a quietly moving one crowned in golden light, that Alphindil awoke at long last from harrowing dreams, his eyes opened as he gasped for air, crying out in fear and desperation,

"Celebrin!"

The friend who slept beside him in a chair awoke hearing his name and upon seeing the risen figure of Alphindil went quickly to his side and embraced him as the other was reduced to tears and inaudible words of a dark and terrible world filled with no sign of life and darkness one could not fathom and of a laughter so vile and cruel it caused the very rocks to shy away in fear. At last his hastened and fey words made sense as he grabbed at Celebrin's tunic, holding on as if this world seemed more unreal to him than the one he saw,

"I...I could not see anything... So alone...alone...and the eye."

"Calm my friend, you are safe now."

"Then it was dream? ...So terrible and horrible a dream."

"Sleep, it is over."

The fey and terrified elf would not drift to sleep, until a tea was brought to him and calmed his shattered nerves, and a lullaby was sung by his friend as he rocked him as a fragile child, as he had when Alphindil arrived to Avernien and dreamt of fire and Balrog whips.

In the morning after, Alphindil awoke again, seeing daylight and moving figures, sitting up quickly in his bed he saw before him the figure of Celebrin watching him intently smiling as he rose to life. Whatever pain he felt was secondary to this moment, as he was embraced again only now he felt joy to be in the arms of his only remaining family; Celebrin wept tears of joy and said to him,

"I thought you were lost..."

"I thought I had lost you...I...I cannot move my arm."

He said this looking at his arm, which had been bandaged heavily so that no thing disturbed the healing beneath, this caused him to laugh a little as a joyfully clear voice spoke from behind him,

"The wounds were deep, mother put forth all her effort in restoring you to health my gwador."

Smiling Alphindil accepted the embrace of Celebrian, who by this time had washed herself having been awakened by last night's events and looked as if she had not spent the last days among the sick and wounded.

"Let me see him!"

A commanding voice came from the doorway, as a figure robed in kingly garments strode in and looked in the direction of Alphindil, laughing he ran to the seated figure and embraced him saying,

"My mother's art of healing is indeed worth its weight in mithril my friend, it is good to see you among the living."

"It is a pleasure to see your smiling face Amroth...but, your..."

"I know the fate of Amdir, and have mourned him well, I am glad yours was not a death I would have to mourn as well."

When all had left save Celebrin, Alphindil leaned upon the head board of the bed and was propped up by his friend. Despite his turn of fate he did not smile, and looked rather worn with pain, now that he was almost alone. Noticing this Celebrin sat beside him on his bed and took his friend hand saying,

"What troubles you my friend?"

"There is pain, in my shoulder, and...I cannot feel my arm, nor the hand you hold in your own."

"You are still healing, it is the herbs,"

"No...I could not feel anything, not even the embraces, and I cannot move my legs."

Tears began to move down Alphindil's face as Celebrin searched his mind for answers, Alphindil with some effort leaned into the embrace of his friend, and wept,

It must be the herbs, 

He repeated in his mind these words, as he embraced his friend, looking into the window at the life outside, knowing with some semblance of forethought that could not have been true.


	25. The dance

* * *

Weeks passed as the moon ended its waning season and returned to its full light and the coronation of Amroth as King of Lorinand came with much bitter-sweet celebration, as the Hall of the Former King was once again filled with music and laughter. People from all around the kingdom and even an emissary from Greenwood came to the celebration, bringing with them the sounds of the northern kingdom and even their mighty king accompanied by his gentle Silvan wife, who was at this time laden with child. With their emissary came, from the land of Imladris, one traveler, dressed in Doriathic gray, who upon removing his hood and cape was quickly embraced by the prince of Lorinand and called father. At this time the coronation began, and Celebrin stood in the back of the large crowd beside Alphindil who sat in a chair straining his neck to try vainly to see over the heads of elves. Upon a raised platform Amroth knelt before the throne of Lorinand as Galadriel and Celeborn together lay the newly cleaned crown upon his head, the crown, which now shone brightly, had one last and final crest upon it, the crest of Amroth, a golden tree beside a silver swan. And the music was played as guests began to sit and some began to dance, merriment was the focus of that day, and for many it was so, yet in the corner of the grand hall Alphindil sat, and smiled most of the time, yet would grimace in pain as with his right arm, the only he could move, he massaged the ache of his neck and the temples of his forehead. Noticing his friend's pain Celebrin took up the massaging of the aching muscles and in a whisper said,

"I can seek some tea to calm the pain..."

"Do not dare! ... Forgive me, I did not mean to sound so, the teas numb me entirely, to where I cannot hear or see clearly, it is better to live with the pain, than to not experience this..."

"How does the arm...feel?"

"Not at all...just like yesterday, and the legs are no different...do not wait on me as you would a child...go, dance, it is a time of joy."

"I cannot..."

"Do what he says Elornion, my daughter wishes for a worthy dance partner...I will sit with him if you wish."

Startled by the voice of Celeborn, Celebrin bowed so quickly that his head flushed with blood as he returned to stand up straight. At this Celeborn laughed, a laugh filled with strength and gentle joy, his ancient eyes looked at the youth before him and without word of reply moved Celebrin toward the dance floor and pushed him forth saying in laughter,

"Go, your lord commands you!"

As Celebrin walked off, Celeborn sat beside an uneasy Alphindil who of all present was not used to sitting along side such company, only to serving them. Instead in silence they watched as two elves moved, hand in hand to the dance floor, one with hair as brilliant as the silver moon, the other with raven hair that reflected the pattern of the stars in the firelight. One was dressed as a princess of the Eldar, nay even as Luthien herself, the other dressed as any common elf. Together they smiled as the center of the hall was cleared in their unusual wake and a wild tribal beat was beaten on the drum, and was joined by flutes and stringed instruments, the beginning so slowly and in the rhythm of the heart beat, the music of the woods. The two dancers circled one another, in steps taught flawlessly from birth, and clapped as the drum beat its slow but quickening rhythm. Their hands joined as they bowed and began to move to the music of the woods, almost primal, awakening the deep spirit forces of nature within. Her skirt moved as water upon the mountainside and spun as the wings of a butterfly, their feet moving with one another, as flawless as if they were made to move together, in one unified rhythm. The maiden's father smiled at the sight, proud as any would be for a daughter who became so fair in the maturity of her long age, so strong she seemed then, so happy to simply move and dance to a music that beat faster and played the very heights of the mountains to the bottoms of a large river. Alphindil smiled a wiry grin to see Celebrin so happy at dancing, something he had not done since they lived in Mithlond, his thought trailing to memory until a voice beside him spoke,

"They move in rhythm, do they not, so naturally..."

"Yes, they do."

"They have never danced before have they?"

"Once, when she asked him to teach her, a story too long to tell..."

"He taught her? Of course he did, a duty to him no doubt."

"He was obliged, he enjoys it."

"A fine servant he has been to me, even when it was a thankless duty..."

"Yes, he has always been so..."

"Such loyalty must be rewarded, do you not think so?"

"What gift would you give him my lord? For all he has done?"

"The greatest jewel in my eye, do you not agree?"

Celeborn looked at the dance floor again, at the two dancers who moved to the clap of the hand and the beat of the drum, spinning as two birds in flight upon the rolling hills of the river valley. Alphindil then knew of what the Silver lord spoke, and he frowned in doubt of this thought, his mouth becoming stern in wishing to speak of truths he was bound never to reveal. Celeborn saw his reaction and spoke sternly,

"Do you not agree?"

"I...do you wish for my council my lord?"

"Of course, you know him best, and I have seen how often my daughter confides in you...unless, you wish her for yourself."

His eyebrow rose in questioning, and his stare blazed through Alphindil, yet the secrets held in the mind and heart of Alphindil were hidden well, and he spoke truthfully,

"That is not my wish, my lord, though I love your daughter, it is only as friend and sister..."

"Then what is your council?"

"I...I think my lord, that you should ask her yourself, she speaks to me seldom of these things, only of the day and other such trivial matters."

Alphindil, always terrible at lying when he spoke of such private matters, squirmed beneath the stare of the Silver Lord as he said the last phrase; Celeborn driving from the interrogation said,

"And of the matters of his heart? Surely you know those?"

Alphindil searched his mind for thoughts of what Celebrin spoke of, of what thoughts he shared in the matters of love, yet surprisingly no thought came to his mind, save one, this he spoke of freely, not wishing to lie again to such a lord,

"He loves many things my lord; but truly loving something, to be honest, he has never shared with me, I think my lord he fears love and marriage, because of his parents' ill-fate."

"Ah...yes, it would be so."

Celeborn sighed remembering those ill-fated days when love drove two friends to become fey and abandon their child to foster care, looking into his own mind Celeborn was silent, until he spoke again a few moments later, gazing at the pair who had just finished dancing and were bowing hand in hand at the applause of the crowd around.

"Does he wish for it? Despite his fears?"

"I think, my lord, we all wish for it and... he has become lonely in his long years."

For an unknown reason it pained Alphindil to say these true words, and hearing Celeborn's joyful words after, pained him more it seemed,

"Then the gift for him will be an end to his loneliness, it is settled... they shall marry."

"A moment my lord, do not announce anything, until you have asked her thoughts of this...it would not be wise my lord...to mistake friendly love for romantic love."

"Yes it would be wise...I thank you."

It was then that Celeborn rose and returned to take his daughter's hand for a softer dance, allowing Celebrin to return to his seat. Celebrin sat beside a pondering Alphindil breathing heavily from the dance, listening to the music play and a voice sing softly of life before the breaking of the world, of Beleriand beneath the eternal light of the stars, and the world unmarred by invasion. Alphindil touched Celebrin's shoulder softly with his right hand after half an hour of silence saying in a whisper,

"I tire this night, if you would but take me to my bed I will be no burden for you."

"It is no burden to care for you my friend."

And with that Celebrin rose and helped Alphindil up, supporting him with his shoulders, allowing Alphindil to stand on two wobbly legs. Only one could move very little, despite no feeling in it, the other dragged exceedingly behind. Slowly they left the hall, and walked beneath the stars toward the House of the Healers. Yet pain shot through Alphindil's body and it seized in a painful cramp, causing him to trip and fall to his knees, crying out a curse beneath his breath. Celebrin sighed saying,

"Take my hand, it is only a bit further."

"Ai, what good is walking when it hurts to do so!"

"Pain comes in all forms, let me be your strength through it."

Again Alphindil rose, leaning on the support of his companion, their two forms slowly making their way to the house, again pain seized Alphindil, yet this time he did not fall. Laughing Celebrin took Alphindil in his arms and strode to the house the rest of the way saying,

"Enough with it."

And Alphindil at first gasped at the sudden action then laughed at how others looked at them, as Celebrin took large steps to the doorway of the houses. When they reached the doors Celebrin set him down and opened the large wooden doors to darkness within, save for a dimly lit lamp. Supporting his friend on his shoulders again they made their way to the bed of Alphindil and at last he helped him sit upon it with laughter and sighs. As Celebrin removed the tunic of his companion, Alphindil spoke regarding the dancing,

"You enjoyed it didn't you, the dance, I have not seen you as happy..."

"It was good to do it again, she moves well with the tune...

"And with you."

Celebrin stopped as he took a fresh tunic from the bedside, laid out by one of the healers; he then unfolded it, and placed Alphindil's arm into the sleeve, saying,

"Why do you say that?"

"The way you moved with her, it seemed...well...natural."

"I was her teacher, of course it did."

"There was more to it..."

"What are you aiming for?"

"Nothing, just a train of thought...

Celebrin finished dressing Alphindil for bed and upon saying his goddnight walked out of the house. And Alphindil slept, wondering why his companion hid what fears he had about his love for another, even hiding them from him, one who he confided everything to. Yet his thoughts were filled with uneasy dreams until in the late hours of the night when he heard hushed and arguing voices, the voices of a father and daughter; he sat up and heard from the open window the sounds of their conversation, the father spoke with a hale and strong voice,

"Why do you refuse? Is he not a good elf?"

"Of course he is _Ada_. And I would accept..."

"But?"

"He does not see me in the eyes of love."

"His smile begs to differ...as did your own, little one."

"It was the dance, we love it so..."

"But he is your match! I have knowledge of this, it is how I met your mother."

"So I am doomed to live with one who seeks duty before love?"

"You cannot see the truth of it, only through eyes of others!"

"I have eyes of my own Ada!"

"Then you do not see how much I cherish our time together, how different a person either of us becomes when the other is around! You are young and know little of the ways of love...Yes I choose duty before family, but so does she, do you not see the ring now present on her finger! Do you not see how we came here...to found defenses on her order! Yes it may seem that our love is distant and alien at times...but you cannot deny that it is not there! It is there my little one, and stronger then even you know."

"I...I am sorry. I did not know..."

"Ai my little silver queen, Celebrin is an honest and good person, he may seem distant at times, but he has of few people earned my deepest respect, and I know a heart beats beneath his breast..."

"As do I Ada, I have come to know his other persona well..."

"Then?"

"I cannot...do not sigh...you say I am young and know little of love, then why press me into it, never knowing what my heart will truly desire? I do love Celebrin, but I have entire span of my life to "fall in love", if I will it so."

"Alas how wise you have become, I will not press the matter then, yet if he were to ask me himself, then I cannot deny him the permission to try."

Alphindil lay down again, having heard the secret conversations his ears should not have heard; thoughts flowed through his mind as he gazed into the roof of the building, and beyond to where stars dotted the realms of his dreams.

* * *

_Dont worry this isn't the end yet, more to come._


	26. The dangers of a weary heart

The next days brought many new occurrences, days turned to weeks and weeks to months, and months passed their seasons from springs to winters, summers to falls. In the tenth year of the Third Age of the world, as the season of summer came upon the lands of Lorinand, the dreams of Lady Galadriel were upset, not by terrors or darkness, but by a solitary image of the unending sea and a perilous song from the edge of its mighty width. She wept that night, calling out the names of her brothers, her father, her mother...a lament for all she left, the ring burned upon her finger, as she looked so perilously at it. The weeks of harrowing images passed in silence until one day, having grown worried for the sanity of his wife Celeborn announced he would then leave the realm of Lorinand and make for the southern lands, below the borders of Gondor, as to why that place he could not say, only that it was time his ever moving bones walked again and his idle hands forged kingdoms from the sand.

The host he would take was few in number, numbering only in the hundreds, half of Sindar the other of the Silvan folk, who had never before seen the fabled ocean. Young they all were, born half way through the previous age, all mesmerized by the songs of the Noldor, the lays they told of sea kings and perilous journeying.

Celebrin watched as these youth darted this way and that, seldom asking him what it was to live by the sea, enthralled by leaving their homes of thousands of years, to seek adventure and a new beginning. He laughed at their behavior, at their youthfulness and innocence, he then walked on to a small clearing where Alphindil sat by the river bed, digging his richly carved stave into the mud of the river bank. He leaned on a tree watching silently at how with one hand Alphindil loosened a smooth rock and washed in the riverbed, revealing its shining quality, and its smooth green surface. At length he spoke,

"Stones have always been your love have they not old friend? You will find many more by the sea shore."

"Alas it will be my joy to do so...and to breathe again the salt of the sea."

Alphindil struggled to stand, pulling himself up with his right hand using the stave, and pushing up with his right leg, the only one to have regained full usage. Pain wreathed across his face as he struggled, causing Celebrin to go and help him in the task and say,

"Why do you continue to attempt to sit as you once did, knowing it causes you pain both in the going and the return?"

"I will not be doted upon by servants and sit forever in a chair as the ancient ones of mortals do...The pain is unbearable, it will ease by the sea, mark my words."

Together they walked slowly to where the host began to gather; Thingalad, now fully grown to riding stature, moved uneasily in the hands of the stable hand beside him, seeing Celebrin the young horse tossed his head into the air, and quickly nuzzled him. In handing the reins to Celebrin the stable hand looked uneasily at Celebrin, prompting him to say,

"My... wife thanks you, for the home you have given us..."

"Now young one, I told you I was indebted to you, to that I still am lacking just payment...this will still not make us even however."

Handing the youth a small satchel he grinned as he helped Alphindil onto the back of the horse, tying the stave to the side of the young steed. The youth opened the satchel and gasped at what he saw inside, removing the brown cover he revealed a book bound in a soft blue binding, which was engraved with markings from an ancient place and time. Looking at Celebrin he could find no words, and only smiled foolishly, Celebrin placed his hand encouragingly on the youths shoulders saying,

"This book...is the history of our people, the Sindar of Doriath, and the Nandor of Ossiriand and beyond. In it are lays and songs, tales and memoirs of a time long past, I had it made in Mithlond long ago, now I give it to you, a prized and cherished thing to me, teach it to your son, teach him the art of song, and joy, ere sorrow come again."

And leading the white-gray horse to the front of the train, he blew the horn of farewell and a great host once again left the borders of Lorinand, the golden wood, and made their way south, passing Calenardhon, to the very edge of the Mountains of Mist, and passed the Great Forest of Fangorn, beyond the Borders of Gondor, the southern kingdom of Men in that age. And beyond they walked and rode, at night and by day, to the sound of the sea, and came to a land fair and green, where swans filled the air with the gulls of the sea. The land lay empty of life, save for a few settlements of mortal men, yet they lay far in the distance, and could not see where these fair folk came to reside.

* * *

In the cliffs of the rocky shores they made their homes, and in the surrounding forests, singing songs and living with ease beside the sea. Yet all was not well in this realm, for though joy was paramount of all, one lonely voice cried out in the darkness as the years went by, each time on the same perilous night. And he would weep as he held his arm that had not moved since that dark day. He would wake from dreams, clinging to his companion, dousing his tunic in tears. And at times the pain of his leg and shoulder was too much to bear, causing him to enter a fey-like rage, throwing the gems of his workshop onto the floor, and throwing carved wood into the fires of his smithy. Then after he would sit in silence and darkness brooding over the pain and loss of hope that day. Yet when the day ended his mood cleared and he would grin a wiry smile and laugh again as if nothing happened before.

So it came to pass, that after many years, living by the sea, an emissary came from the north, from Imladris, dressed in dark sable robes, and walking as a lord of the Eldar. Before the very seat of Celeborn the figure bowed and removed his hood, revealing the very face of the lord of Imladris, in a tongue so filled with honor, and hope, he asked for the very hand of Celebrian in marriage saying,

"My lord Celeborn, I have come from my own home, through lands far and wide, to bend my knee before you, and ask for that which you deem most precious to you in the world...Though you hold her dear to your heart, I tell you with the utmost truth in my own that my love for her can rival that of her father's...I ask for the hand of your daughter, whom I have come to love these past ages, and who, if she will it, loves me all the same."

And the Silver lord, looked hale and emotionless, looking to his wife and then to his daughter, who could not hide her surprise or her joy at hearing what was said. He rose from his seat, walking over to her, he loomed over her, in silence he looked into her eyes. And she looked into his, and amid their silent converse, he smiled and said,

"Now I see, my little one, how much you have waited to hear those words...Go to him, if you still hold him dear."

And Celebrian, after embracing her father, ran to the kneeling figure of Elrond and took him into her arms, kissing him it seemed for the first time in public, revealing their silent love that brewed beneath their quaking hearts.

And joy was spread throughout the elven realms to hear of the marriage of Celebrian and Elrond, and their spring wedding, 109 years after the beginning of that age, when all seemed so hopeful after the darkness. In Imladris their celebration was made, and the halls of the House of Elrond were filled with merriment and joy, and upon the seats of honored guest sat Celeborn and Galadriel, and beside them King Amroth, and to the edge of the table, in a place they had never sat before, sat Celebrin and Alphindil, in fine robes fit for princes of the Eldar.

The occurrences of these days are written in the histories of the elves, yet more beautifully are they kept in the hearts and eyes of those who saw them, they who saw the surprise upon Celebrian and Elrond's face when dwarves from Khazad-dum brought forth jewels in the trunk loads to her feet, and bowed gently before her. It is written in the eyes of they who saw they Silver-queen and her raven haired friend dance among the beats of drums, and the reunion of half-father and half-son in a tight and warm embrace, and the face of joy upon the Silver Lord, when his daughter completed the ceremony of marriage, not able to contain her joy.

* * *

Thus were those early days passed in peace, into joyous years and soothing decades; in the land by the sea Celeborn and Galadriel lived in peace, hearing day by day the crashing of the waves.

And in their gentle home, carved into the cliff Celebrin wrote into books his memories in song, before going out for the fishing of pearls and the gathering of sea-smoothed stones, only to bring them back to the shop of his friend, who spent his days fingering these beauties, and little else, sorrowful in that he could not make anything of them. And the weight of the sea-song weighed heavily upon Alphindil, as he massaged his left shoulder free of its pain, a pain that never really disappeared, a pain that he carried on for years; and he watched the sea's rolling waves, until one harrowing day, Celebrin rushed through the door, smiling and laughing, smelling of sea water, holding dearly in his hands a gift for his friend wrapped in tattered clothing.

"I have brought you a thing of great beauty...look."

Looking at the unraveled gift and seeing an opal pearl, of many hues, smooth and without blemish, made so by the waves of the sea. And while on any day he would have relished in this gift he instead turned his head in disgust, prompting his companion to say,

"I had thought you would make something of it, possibly for the birth of Celebrian's third child, I hear news say it is a girl of..."

"What makes you think I can make things of beauty... for your silver queen."

"Are you..."

"Yes I am well Celebrin and you!"

"I do not believe you."

"How bright you are indeed old friend! How bright you are to finally witness my pain!"

Alphindil now stood, and struggling walked to the hearth, poking the dying flames with his stave, until in frustration he threw the richly carved item into the fire itself. Leaning on the mantle, he grabbed his seizing leg, his face writhing in pain. Celebrin moved to help him but was pushed away by unlooked for strength.

"Do not touch me! I do not need your help! Do not treat me like some dotard who requires your help day and night!"

"You are not yourself Alphindil...it is the sickness."

"Cursed leg, and cursed friend, to treat me so...as a wife who waits the arrival of her lord from a days work that she knows little of! I know not why I returned to you, if I knew you would treat me so, and see my deformities as something to be pitied...I am not one to be pitied Celebrin!"

"I do not pity you...I have only ever cared for you!"

"A tamed horse, a domesticated dog, where is your wayward spirit oh mighty elf of Doriath. It is lost...he now knows a home, caring for the weak is his duty now, a warrior no more worthy of song than a...

"Heed your words my friend."

Celebrin's chest began to heave at these insults, Alphindil laughed as one fey, his face changing from fey and laughing, to harrowing in searing pain.

"What strength have you left in body oh mighty warrior; caring for the sick must have made you weak in stomach has it not...waiting on me has tamed your wild spirit has it not?"

"Alphindil..."

"Look how low the mighty Sickle of Doriath has become, waiting upon cripples and madmen! A farce... a farce of a noble name!"

Unable to control himself Celebrin raised his hand and struck Alphindil across his cheek causing him to fall to the ground and bleed from his mouth, striking him into reality out of his rage, made drunken by pain. Seeing blood upon his fist Celebrin broke his red eyes of rage, and felt blood trickle once again from his own cheek, he ran in fear and sorrow out into the darkening day. Alphindil crawled away from the hearth, to the chair nearby, realizing all he had said; he placed his face into his hands and mourned the passing of his sanity that past hour. His thoughts raced here and there, into shadows that had unfathomable depths, where darknes lay and no light went hither. This was the place in the mind that drove men mad, that bade them take their own life to hide the horrors within; yet the Eldar, being of stronger mind, could walk such a place, for a brief moment of time. Within him Alphindil saw,

_a crying lonely child, whose tears made a river flow beneath him and flood into the sea, the child wore red fabric on his leftt arm and leg, which were tied to a old and withered cypress. The child cried and wailed, yet Alphindil could not move, for he himself was that child, he tried to rip the fabric from him, but it tightened in his efforts, until it began to draw blood._

His thoughts were interrupted by the screeching of the door, and the figure of Celebrin, downtrodden and shamed, entereing the room; they needed no words, and I silence they sat beside one another, starring into the blazing flame until Alphindil spoke,

"I want to go home..."

"We are home..."

"No..._home"_

"Oh..."

Silence followed, as both knew what must be done, dreading every moment of their thoughts of leaving again a place they made for themselves, vagabonds and without homes. Celebrin himself, did not, for the first time in his life, wish to leave a place he had come to know as _his _home. Yet for this one who sat beside him weary of the weight of the sea song, he would do anything, therefore he raised his head to view the roof of their home among the cliffs and sighing said at last,

"Very well then."

Celebrin stood and after helping Alphindil to his room, he took a small cloak, for it began to rain as it often did, and left the house built into the cliff and strode some distance away, to the very edge of the ridge, where the mountainous cliffs reached out to the sea, and the rocky edges below, were covered in the night tide beneath the fully wrought moon. The moon shined down through a bit of open clouds, sending his silver light, reflecting it off the ever moving seas and the silver lamps marking the entrance to the home and hall of Celeborn and Galadriel. He was admitted to a large room covered in tapestries, where sat elves surrounding a minstrel having finished a song. Celebrin stood aside until the servant at the time whispered his arrival to the Silver Lord, resulting in a large grin and an applause for the minstrel and a final bidding away of all present, save his golden-crowned wife. Together they sat, looking at him, with friendly eyes, until they saw a look of anxiety on his face; Celeborn rose, yet before he said anything Celebrin bowed at his waist, saying in a forced formal tongue,

"My Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel, I thank you for welcoming me into you home."

"You have always been welcome Elornion, please there is no need for formality between us..."

Celeborn motioned for him to sit, yet Celebrin showed no signs of easing his tense form; anxiety crippled him from moving, and his words stuck to the back of his throat prompting a concerned Lord to ask,

"Is there something you wish to ask Elornion, for it seems something weighs heavily upon you now."

"I have come, my Lord, to ask that you and my Lady release me from your service and allow me to return to my home in Mithlond, where my kin have waited for me these past account of years."

Celeborn stood firm before the raven-haired elf before him, his face a mixture of shock, anger, and doubt. His eyes looked deep into Celebrin's, seeking the purpose for this action, questions swam in the hue of them, seeking answers to the unexpected. Celeborn, hiding a hurt heart at this news, spoke stoicly,

"You wish to leave us indefinatley Elornion? What action have we done that forces you to do so?"

"No action you have done my lord has made me make this choice...my heart yearns for home, that is all."

Galadriel spoke at this, as she walked to where the two elves stood, placing a gentle hand upon her husband's shoulder,

"Tathirilion, I know you have other duties to think of now in these times, and though I am saddened by your departure, it is what you must do...I release you from your faithful service to me, go and find what path is best for you."

She then whispered into the ear of her husband, in turning on her heel before leaving,

"My lord, the son of Elorn has served us well for many years, faithfully and without complaint, with no praise or thanks for his services..."

When she had left Celebrin looked down at the intricate marble carvings of the stone hall, where sea shell tiled the floor in a mosaic, bearing the symbol of Elu Thingol, a symbol that had become synonymous with the houses of Sindar everywhere, especially if they were related to the former king in some manner; of all people Celeborn had the right to have such a thing in his home. Yet now the Silver Lord looked at his servant before him, between anger and pain, before him he saw a youth whose company in journeying and diplomacy he had come to cherish; a youth whom he would have given the hand of his daughter freely, yet said nothing in all his years. Yet Celeborn also saw a torn spirit in a broken house, one who seldom did anything for himself, but did what he had to do, for duty or love selflessly. At last Celeborn broke the silence,

"Your father asked the same of me once before... before you were born, when his brother-in-friendship Cirdan was fighting the wars of the northern realm of Beleriand, and his havens of Brithombar and Eglarest were destroyed. This I gave him, with the full knowledge that he would never return; yet my heart hurt to see him go, with his wife, to the sea again- and he would not return when he was called, and there was strife between me and Cirdan, who by this time established his haven upon Avernien and the Island of Balar... You see, Elornion, your father would not, for any alligiance, return having seen the sea again, and having known what he had lost in marrying your mother. Yet Tathiril became pregnant with child, and wished that you be born within the borders of her home, rather than by the sea. And with much hesitation your father left the shores of Avernien, deciding it was safer for you to live within the Girdle, than risk his family to open attack. And so they braved the passage of the plains and the Girdle; yet they were waylayed by a group of swarthy men, under the guise of Edain, who attacked them and left them for dead in the midst of the Girdle itself, where the sorcery of Sauron met the Protection of Melian and the mists were friend to none. Your father being the stronger tried to find his way into Doriath again, searching for the path he was taught when he first arrived, yet to no avail... loss of blood and worry caused him to loose his wits. Beleg found them at long last, barely alive and brought them to me, where I brought them to health again. Your father's first words to me then, were an oath, an oath to ever serve me and my family, until the end of his days, if they were ever to come, and he pledged his posterity would do the same, till death take them and release them from my service. To this oath I have held you Elornion, yet I, of all, know that oaths are too dangerous, when strictly enforced, and have known you to be loyal to it, even when you were not by my side. Therefore, I give you leave, not of your service to me, but to go where you will, only that you return at times of great need. Do you agree to this Elornion?"

"I will never abandon my service to you my Lord, unless you release me yourself; you who have shown me nothing but kindness...I thank you."

Smiling at long last Celeborn took Celebrin and embraced him, bidding him a safe journey and a fond farewell for the time being. Leaving the hall Celebrin looked out into the sea, where the moon began to fall beneath the horizon, following the sun in their immortal dance, he sighed in weariness and touched the scar upon the right side of his cheek, he laughed a little, noticing the date of all this occurance...it was the same day as the one many years ago, when he arrived on the field of Eregion, and fought to the side of the Lord his family devoted their service to, till death released them from that service they cherished most in the world.


	27. The Journey over the mountains, or The C

_I know, I know, I said this would be coming to a close soon, and it will, eventually...just kidding but really I promise this storyline will end and I can start posting sequals. Though It saddens me in the doing, writing this has been an experience. thank you for your input. Okay its NOT ending now. But thank you._

The day of their journey was uneventful, as were the weeks that followed, slowly and leisurely they rode north, passing the borders of Gondor in the midst of the night, braving winds and rains that flowed quickly down the feet of the mountain, their winter chill nearly freezing them where they stood. At many times during the long arduous journey Alphindil would cringe at the pain he felt in his shoulder, rubbing it from time to time, always out of sight from his companion, who rode before him, paving a way through the gathering snow. The moon was seldom seen as they slept at night, so too were the stars hidden from their gaze, for dark clouds covered the whole of the sky as it let loose thousands of flakes of white pure snow- falling in a musical pattern- twisting this way and that- until they came to rest upon the frozen floor.

The hollows of the woods would cry out in oboe-like tunes; the crooning of the Onodrim, as Celebrin called them, songs for their wives who were lost to time. In Calenardhon, in the dead of winter these sorrowful cries droned throughout the night, their soft melody causing weary hearts to mourn the emptiness of the bed they slept in. And yet one night, as the crooning continued, writhing in the course of the ever-moving wind, Celebrin sat up from a perilous dream to find Alphindil starring at the dying fire. Before he could say anything, the howls of wolves entered his ears, far from his sword, which was tied to Thingalad; he bade Alphindil sit beside him for safety. Yet Alphindil sat motionless, looking into space; he moved toward his friend and as he was about to pull him away from the dying fire, the howls of the wolves ended, their dreadful cries flying away in the wind, cries of fear and terror were heard in their harsh departure. A short distance away, a large looming shadow appeared, made a silhouette by the dying lamp, the figure appeared more dreadful than the even the terrible cries of the wolves. Yet calm was in its wake, and as a wise old being sent from beyond the stars, it did not frighten the two companions, for this figure was known to them. His snow white hair blowing in the wind, as if it was meant to dance amid the tresses of ancient hair, his eyes so worn from life, that he seemed an old spirit of the world. The two looked at this creature, and understood who kept watch over them this night and all others, a friend from another age, who ran amid the fields of Calenardhon, crying out in rebellion against the wind, his white ancient form streaking across the plains of the great horse-land.

At long last their journey that season came to an end in Lorinand, where they were greeted with warm embraces, and a place beside the joyful king who during the winter months took his place of residence in the hall beneath the roots of the trees, where a blazing fire danced to the music of minstrels and troupes of players and dancers, telling stories to children of their heritage and the part their new guests played in such tales. And the two companions laughed to see their life made into song, both joyful and sorrow-filled, whispering to one another how accurate such stories were, or the opposite of it all. And those nights they slept in quarters of honor, only to awaken to more life amid the trees, while winter covered the canopies and ground with snow. Day to day life was lived in happiness until the coming of spring. When golden leaves of the old season fell from their limbs to make way for golden white blossoms, covering the once frozen ground with leaves of golden hue. Thus did it return to the mind of Alphindil the purpose of their journey, as his shoulder began to bite with bitter pangs, and darkness clouded his mind, even amid all this beauty of the early spring, the anniversary of the defeat of Sauron reminded him of his weariness and the fact that this gentle place was not the home he held dear. And so the parting of friends again occurred, as the King himself guided his friends to the northern borders of his land, where the forest of Greenwood began, saying,

"I have sent word to King Thranduil, he will provide you lodging fit for princes when you arrive, and thereafter you may rest for however long you wish, until you are ready."

"We thank you for your hospitality gwador...there is no gift we can give you at this parting?"

Alphindil's words, though sounding natural to him, began to lag and deepen, as if he had lived thousands of years beyond his age, showing the weariness of his life and the toll it presses upon him. Amroth smiled at his friend's words saying only,

"Since when have family members ever given gifts at partings gwador? Nay only the promise that you will return one day is enough for me."

"We shall see as the years unfold, but we shall return...Navear."

"Navear Celebrin...Navear Alphindil."

"May the trees of Lorien never fall by malice or war..."

"And may the paths you tread never lead to darkness again Alphindil."

Amroth's laughter faded as he turned and walked towards Caras Galadhon, laughing out the new name for his land, not different from the old one in meaning.

* * *

 And again the two companions continued their journey, sometimes in silence, others times laughing at old memories, or singing old songs they heard in the courts of their youth. Yet as they went deeper into the great wood, shadows danced across the tapestries of trunks and needles and leaves. To the north they went, seldom stopping to rest, for the woods became so steeped in darkness that day was not so different from night, and the stars and moon were hidden from sight. Yet one night as they spoke of matters personal to themselves they heard the sounds of a crackling fire and a song heard for many millennia by the ears of elves everywhere, whose melody reaches beyond the time of Beleriand and the founding of Doriath. Three voices sang,

_Ai Elbereth Glithoniel_

_O menel palan diriel_

_Le nallon si di'nguruthos_

_A tiro nin, Faniulos._

_A Elbereth Glithoniel_

_Silivren penna miriel_

_O menel aglar elenath_

And the two companions watched these three people sing, surrounding a fire, the greens of their cloaks and their attire matched them into the very woods they stood around. Their harps sounded alien to the other's ears, yet only served to elevate the song beyond the sounds of the mountain realm, to a foreign place that seemed so familiar at the same time. The three strangers noticed they were being watched and almost ducked into the safety of the woods had not Celebrin called out to them in the Silvan dialect that he learned in Lorinand, and again those same words in Sindarin,

"Hail, we are friends of your king!"

"What are your names?"

Called one of the strangers, whose hood covered his features and showed only a stern mouth, where none would have suspected such melodious tunes to emanate. To his question Alphindil spoke, removing himself from the brush with one hand before him, palm facing the sky, and the other hanging limply to his side,

"I am Alphindil, called Gaereledh, my companion is Celebrin Uialion...he was lieutenant during the war, under your king, over the contingent of Lorinand after their king's death."

The three elves stared at the attire of these two strange travelers, for they indeed wore the clothing given to them by Amroth in Lorinand, clothing that shimmered like the silver moon behind wisps of clouds that foretold wind the next day. The three golden-haired elves bowed their waists at these travelers, as if the ones who stood before them were indeed fabled kings out of songs. The ice between them melted as they greeted one another as kin, saying that their King expected their arrival within the next few days rather than the moment at hand. That night they slept before a grand fire, not needing to keep watch at all; in the morning they rose to begin the last leg of the journey to the Halls of Thranduil. And before them the great doors rose out of the side of a hill, like a mimicked Menegroth, as if it was made by stories told rather than by eyewitness account. They were received into the grand hall of the king, which was lit by many bronze lamps and fireplaces, and Thranduil stood to greet his guests stepping down from his throne to embrace them as diplomats often do. Two seats were brought for the travelers to sit beside the king at a dinner feast, where a regally dressed she-elf, clearly of Silvan descent, sat straightening her hair in its braids, her delicate fingers re-attaching a silver brooch in the form of a cedar leaf. Thranduil brought his guests to the she-elf and addressed her in a jestful mood saying,

"Herves, these are the famed Twin Spears you have heard often of in your gossips with your chamber maids...Celebrin of Doriath, and...Gaereledh...his companion."

The King's voice trailed to address the elf who stood next to him, looking down as if in some form of shame for having one such as he in his halls; Alphindil's mouth became stern to be addressed as such, yet for the sake of propriety he kissed the hand of the Queen, who, for spite of her husband, fawned at his greeting saying,

"What joy it is to finally meet you two, a change for sour eyes."

Her grasp of Sindarin, while well trained, could not stop her from speaking in her Silvan dialect at times, causing laughter to emanate from her husband who would patronize her grasp of his native tongue. This would in turn prompt her to jest at his loud and proud speech, which more often than not made her deaf, or at the very fact that he made a fool of himself with his boisterous pride, telling stories to these guests of such occurrences. The two companions sat often laughing at jokes that were said, sharing glances at one another in recognition of the fact that all this informality was something they had never before experienced. The people of this realm were joyful when the time came to it, and what sense of propriety was tossed to the wind, or at least any propriety learned by the Noldor or Sindar. It was as if another world had grown completely separated from the occurrences of the outer, so isolate and unique from any other culture either traveler had seen. It was during this feast that a small child with hair as bright as the morning sun on a spring day, and whose countenance was bright as a Noldorin lamp amid the darkness of the cave ran up to the king and hid behind his chair, looking over the shoulder of the smiling king, at two other children who were calling out his name. Laughing the king rose, startling the child into tripping over his own feet; causing the Queen to facetiously slap her husband in the arm. The king turned to pick the fallen child up, and holding the small figure in his arms he presented the child to his guests saying,

"Gentle guests, this is my son, the pride of my eye, and the soothing of my soul...Legolas, these are the famed Twin Spears."

"They do not look like twins, Ada."

The impetulant youth's words made Celebrin smile, and Alphindil laughed saying,

"Nay young princling, we are not twins...I am Alphindil, son of Oianar, and this is Celebrin, son of Uial"

"Where did you come from? Why is your hair darker? Why..."

"Such questions Legolas, leave our guests in peace."

"Nay Thranduil, he does not bother us, he is young and must have such questions answered."

The King nodded to Alphindil's statement and pulled a chair to the two guests for his son to sit on, who had waved his friends away as if they were servant, only to have them mock his regality as they left. Celebrin threw a raised eyebrow toward his companion as Alphindil spoke to the child, telling him in stories how such things came to be, leaving out information that was best for older ears to hear. All the while the child's eyes opened wide as he heard of the Great Journey and the sundering of the elves, yet when he came to the tales of the Noldor, Thranduil quickly interrupted and told the youth to go to bed, sending the child off with his mother. The child turned as he was walking away and said aloud to his mother,

"Why did Ada stop the story, it was getting to the good part..."

While Celebrin laughed at the child's last comment he noticed how disapproving Thranduil seemed of what his child learned, and as the King was about to open his mouth, he said,

"We thank you for your hospitality this night Thranduil, but I am afraid we shall retire for bed."

The king realizing the maneuver nodded simply and kept his eyes forward saying nothing as the two companions left, Alphindil prodding away on his stave, while Celebrin pulled him to their quarters before either elf said anything to one another. When they had reached their quarters Alphindil struggled free of his friend's grasp, saying indignantly,

"What was the cause of that?!"

"I saved your very life, that is what...Never should you say such things aloud, especially here and never before the impressionable mind of the King's son."

"The child asked for a story, and I gave him one, he seemed interested..."

"Yes, and when he asked why his grand-father's kingdom was destroyed, what would you tell him? Or worse if he asked why he was called a dark-elf, what would you say then?"

"You made no move to stop me."

"I did not realize the danger of the situation until it was too late...Stay here, I will try to make amends."

"I do not need protecting...Celebrin"

Alphindil shouted to his companion but it was to no avail, for the door closed, leaving him alone in the quarters. Frustrated and tired he sat in a chair and scoffed at how he was being treated, looking around the room he saw how uniquely carved it was, its finer features glimmering in the firelight. Realizing it must have been how living in Doriath must have felt, so safe beneath the earth, its warmth so fragile as its beauty was as well. And he saw why the Sindar of Doriath felt so passionately about their ancient home, and by what hands it was destroyed, choosing to keep it silent as they had kept the very name of Morgoth silent all these years, hoping not to reawaken its ancient evil. And he sat in silence, until a scream in the night awakened him from his sleep disturbing his dreams.

Celebrin found Thranduil looking at a tapestry that hung on the wall of his hall, depicting Beleg Cuthalion on one of his many adventures, his long flowing hair, catching the light of the woven sun above the trees, and his bow like the crescent moon poised for battle untold by the craft of the weavers. Before Celebrin spoke Thranduil looked at him and turned away saying,

"I have tried so very hard, Celebrin, to forget the sins and wounds of the past, and to spare the scars my father revealed to me, from the mind of my family. Legolas never knew any of that former life, nor should he, he should not know the evils the world can create, he should not know death, by any means, even the gift of men I will spare him from, even if it take all my power, I will spare him that."

"In this world Thranduil, such a wish is seldom granted."

"I WILL GRANT IT FOR HIM! ... He shall never know the histories, and thus be spared from the sorrow of our people."

"And you will protect him from the Shadow as well? Thranduil, you and I both know that the ring survived, whether it was lost in the River, or not...do you not feel it? Knowing our past has made me and you strong, it will teach him the enduring spirit of our people..."

"And what of the evil we are capable of? Do not tell me Celebrin that you have forgotten who destroyed your home and family...the kin of that one you call friend."

"He is different, if you would only see...I have learned to forgive, though it pains me we must forgive, for the safety of our race and the future of our children."

Then a scream was heard throughout the corridor, the King's ears pricked up, hearing the direction it came from saying in fear,

"It comes from the Royal Corridors..."

Then the two ran to where the screams continued , passing from hallway to blackened hall way, the screams getting louder as they approached the very edge becoming as if a child cried out in fear and sorrow. Then the crying stopped as they reached the very door of the child's room, to where the sounds led them. The King in his madness, tore at the door, becoming fey crying out to his son, heeding not who came to hold him back. The door pushed inward yet was held shut by a large mass, yet with the help of two guards and Celebrin the king pushed open the door seeing only a golden-haired child crying in a corner and a figure leaning on the wall beside him, covered in black-red blood with torn clothing and tussled golden-brown hair. The King ran to his son and picked him up holding him in a tight embrace; Celebrin seeing his companion wounded called for a healer and ran to his side, kicking aside a sword, saying,

"What happened?"

Gasping for air Alphindil pointed to the dark corner of the room where lay the dead figure of a large creature whose blackened head was torn from its body and whose bulging massive body twitched still from one of its eight menacing legs. Alphindil regaining his wits said,

"I heard a scream... the guards thought nothing of it, saying it was only one of the soldiers with the war illness telling me to pay no mind. But it sounded not like it at all. I followed it here, where I saw that...thing standing over the child's kicking body, half wrapped in webs. Your sword, I used your sword, I could not find my own...my arm, it hurts."

"Rest a while, a healer is coming, the creature is dead."

Celebrin inspected the wounds to only find a scratch on his left arm, a scratch from a claw and not a bite mark, breathing a sigh of relief he was about to speak when the King interrupted, half in tears the other in a demeanor Celebrin had never seen Thranduil emanate, sincere relief.

"Legolas told me everything...without you, I would have lost that which was most precious to me. What you did, was most honorable, even in your current state, I owe you my life."

"Thank you."

And when the king turned Celebrin helped his friend out of the room, and to the place of the healer, where Alphindil spent the next few days recovering from his wounds, passing the time telling stories to a group of children who followed the princling to the Spider Slayer, while Celebrin helped with burning the lair of the beast that was found when an inspection was lead to find where the creature came from, located only a short distance from the Royal corridors, in a small cavern. Yet soon the day came when Alphindil finished his stories and the children learned them by heart, knowing of the Great Kingdoms of Doriath and Gondolin, of Mithlond beside the sea, and Lorinand to the south and the story of the elven king and queen who founded most of them. All left save the child, as he learned how to play a harp and how to string a bow, despite his teacher having only the use of one arm. Yet even so darkness seemed to reach Alphindil again, and he wished again to continue their journey, and the day came for the saying of farewells and the giving of gifts. The king himself gave the two companions, a silvan bow, made by the crafts of the people, and the king spoke with Celebrin privately saying,

"Tell your fool of a foster-father to give up his ships and live among real elves in the forest."

Knowing it as only a jest Celebrin laughed and said simply,

"I shall..."

And Alphindil bid farewell to his little pupil handing to the child a small hair clip in the shape of a little leaf made of emerald and silver.

And as they left the small child waved emphatically crying out his farewells. At his Celebrin laughed saying in jest,

"Fatherhood suits you..."

"As it would you or is the great Celebrin afraid of children..."

"I do not fear children, only what they will become if I am their father."

"What will they become?"

"Fearful of life, of what it can do; having grown-up, knowing only the sorrow I have lived, and fearing life because of it...I will break their hearts and deny them a true childhood."

"Do not say such a thing, you will not be so...You will teach them beauty, life love, passion, humility and strength. Any child you have, will grow to become renown and surpass the stories of the greats, because you taught them to be so; any child you have I would be proud to love as my own."

"How can you say such a thing? How do you know what I will teach them..."

"Because you taught me."

Celebrin looked at his friend, who though younger than him, seemed wiser and more ancient than even he knew, as if his brushes with death gave him a power over knowledge of time and space as well as drawing strength from his arm and leg day by day. That conversation ended that day, and moved on to other things, as they passed through the old road toward the hidden valley of Imladris, where the playing of music and the cries of laughter received them.


	28. The Evenstar

The halls of Imladris had changed, considerably, much of what was once foot trodden pathways became cobblestone and some were now covered by stone archways to cover travelers as they walked through the curtains of morning dew that fell often from the tall trees of the valley. More bridges connected other parts of this growing elvish city, passing over large rushing rivers that drowned out the sounds of the outside world, and all around stood regalia to a time long passed in the ages of the elves. Down corridors the walls were lined with banners that though tattered and worn stood in places of honor beside shields that glittered in the morning sun. The day dawned over the mountains of mist and lit the valley with the golden amber light racing down the edges of the mountain, reflected off the mists that rose into the sky and turned to clouds, having slept in that blessed vale.

Amid the sounds of the rushing river and the singing birds of Imladris, two companions walked over a stone bridge and stopped to watch a group of children playing in the river below, where the torrents of falling water formed a pool before rejoining the main body of water that flew toward Eriador and the Kingdoms of Men. They watched as these children bathed with their mothers, life seeming so present at this hour, not wreathed in past majesties, or set up as burgeoning memorials to thing gone by. There was a sense of remembrance in Imladris, but not dead or obsessed with the matter, merely a celebration of the life that grew upon the very feet of the mountain. Yet even amid this quiet glory the patter of lightly adorned feet interrupted their joined contemplation. The elf wore green and blue attire, yet simply dressed, the attire of a servant no doubt, and his voice was heavy with the scent of urgency, as he bid them to follow him to the House of the Master.

They walked this odd assortment of people, one stern and quick, behind him walked warily a figure careful to hide a pronounced limp and the leaning on a stave, and the last walking slowly taking in every piece of fine craftsmanship, allowing his fingers to feel every curve of carved wood as it flowed from the base of the floor to the wound beams of the roof. The regality of the main hall astounded Alphindil, the brightness of the hues that hung from the archways of large openings to balconies, making him say,

"He has really changed this place has he not? It is hardly familiar!"

"Yes...it is different."

His companion replied, in a tone similar to regret and doubt yet also filled with joy, his last memories of this land, beyond his of the wedding, were of a makeshift refugee camp, lined wall to wall with cots and wounded soldiers. The doors opened to reveal a wide yet shallow receiving room, something not quite expected from the two travelers as it leant to a more Sindar architecture of a house than of the opulent stone workings of the Noldor. Before them played two elf-children, both alike in form and countenance, not barely above the age of 100, yet their voices were different, one stronger the other fairer. Watching them stood a simply dressed elven lord, laughing as he tossed his braided hair away from his face, his hearty laugh saying,

"Elrohir, leave your brother be, you may be the younger but not by much."

The gentle cough of the servant gathered his attention and an exclamation of joy rang out from his mouth, as he left his quarreling youth to embrace his guests, having done so he beckoned them forth calling toward a passageway that was lit by the entrance of the morning light,

"Celebrian! They are here... Welcome to our home Masters Celebrin and Alphindil, it was a pity we could not receive you last night, but you know children."

"It was a long journey Lord Elrond, we were weary of our journey...we would not have been proper guests."

Alphindil seemed most at home amid all that had grown in the recent years, he answered questions and seemed less in pain here amid the mixed forms of Sindar and Noldor craftsmanship. Celebrin, however, was taken aback by the blatant mixing of such styles; it was as if years of cultural growth had been reduced to nothing, as if there was naught celebrated but the mixing of two histories, two cultures that seldom ever joined in friendship. Here in Imladris, where what once stood as a testament to the Sindar who founded it, now stood as a representation of an ideal, and ideal he never truly believed in, whether it was for his personal beliefs or his memories of his youth, it seemed unnatural. A musical voice entered his train of thought, and he looked up to see a familiar face, dressed in a white maternal gown, cradling a slender form in her arms, whose little arms reached out to touch her mother's braids. Celebrin smiled at this sight, seeing it as fitting, something that should have happened long ago, _she was made for this moment_, he thought to himself, seeing her silver hair twist this way and that, as a plaything for this small bundle of life that lay in her arms.

"Hello Celebrin, it is good to see you again."

"It is a joy to see you again Celebrian, and with someone new in your arms I see."

"Her name is Arwen...Would you like to hold her?"

Celebrin looked surprised as she handed him this small form wrapped in silver cloth, her dark raven hair shimmering like his own, her face reflecting the stars of the night sky, and her eyes...seeming so familiar as she stared up at him, forcing his eyes to well with tears and his voice to crack as he whispered,

"Luthien..."

Elrond smiled at this compliment to his daughter, as he returned from bringing his sons before their guests; the youths who bowed before these strangers, looked perplexed as to why one dark stranger held their youngest sister so tenderly, and the other leaned heavily upon a stave, something uncommon to what have ever seen. Elrond introduced them before his guests as their mother beamed with joy at seeing her former brothers again,

"Honored guests these are my sons, Elladan and Elrohir...boys these are Celebrin and Alphindil, they served along side me, in the Great War...without them much would have been lost."

"You flatter us Lord Elrond, we may be guests in your house, but we are still not worthy of such praise."

"Nonsense, your legend is as strong here as it is east of the Mountains Alphindil. My children have heard of you..."

As the two talked Celebrian led her raven haired companion to a farther corner of the small reception room, smiling at how tenderly he held the child in his arms, chuckling she said,

"You hold her as if you were holding glass..."

"She is most precious Celebrian, in her I see your spirit"

"She has the spirit of her father, and the eyes I am told of a Sindar...she hardly looks like me..."

"Pardon me, but something so beautiful could not have solely come from him."

The two laughed at this simple jest, the long years of separation melting away like snow upon the hillsides at the coming of spring. The remainders of those days were spent in the company of friends, telling stories of Greenwood and Lorinand, and of the coasts to the south. And to their guest the Lord and Lady of Imladris told of many things, of the kings of Eriador, and the growing evil in the north, yet also of the news coming from Mithlond, and of little matters as the building of Imladris. Days passed into weeks and even when the season of summer began to turn old and fall returned to the trees surrounding the valley the companions remained, allowing themselves to loose track of time, it being irrelevant then as it seemed.

* * *

The idle hands of Celebrin began to build again, instructing the peoples of Imladris in the art of making talans upon the limbs of the trees, though they found it too much of an "eastern idea". And Alphindil spent time among the jewelers and silversmiths crafting this and that, forcing himself to work among his trade again, something he had not done in long periods of time, even by the shores of Balar he did not force himself as sternly. And at nights as he would return from his labor he would be too tired to return to bed and too engrossed in pain to sleep, requiring the aid of his friend to help him do both. And his skill with one hand began to improve, yet at a price, for every time he worked harder his left arm would surge with a spasm, the only feeling at the time, and he would spend days nursing the pain until it became numb again. Yet happy were those days they spent until autumn became winter and the bitter cold covered the stone workings in white snow, and little Arwen learned to walk haltingly, as she laughed and danced with her mother as her mother's companion played a white opal and shell flute to a joyful tune. And winter passed as new stars rolled over the sky, and the fire in a grand hall, that once was a hospital, burned greater than it ever had as its warmth entered the halls of the great House of Elrond.

And winter gave way to early spring and cries were heard in an isolated room, calling out the names of persons lost and of pain in the dark. And Celebrin would go to his weeping friend and calm him by singing a lullaby, as he had done centuries ago when the one he held in his arms now was but a few years younger than he and weeping for parents lost to war and battle. And spring came with fresh leaves upon the flowering trees, and a new moon gave little light to the sky filled with stars, as a packed Thingalad stood before the entrance to Imladris and four elves stood beneath the star-lit sky. Celebrin held a sleeping child in her arms, as she embraced Celebrin saying,

"I am happy to see you smile again gwador, visit when you can."

"We will gwathel, we will..."

And farewells were said yet from the twists of his coat Alphindil brought forth two richly carved wooden swords and gave them to Elrond saying,

"Give these to your sons Lord Elrond, when they are ready, tell them they are from a friend and much love was placed into them."

"Thank you Master Alphindil, they are most beautiful."

Then turning to Celebrin he took from his coat pocket a small bundle of cloth and gave it to Celebrin, who then, from the wad of cloth, procured a beautiful gem upon a silver chain, made of mithril, pearl and silver, in the form of a star and a swan at the same time. He then gave it into her hands saying,

"This is a gift from me and Alphindil, for the Evenstar of our people in this age, may it be a symbol of the light she bears into this new era, where we are but remnants of the past that led to her glorious birth."

In the presence of the child the gem began to shimmer within the starlight, and came to rest amid the gathered cloths shining like Earendil had at the rising of the Valar, bringing hope to the lost and forsaken. And the two companions turned upon their trail, finding their way west, crossing through the lands of Eriador at night, wishing not to draw attention to themselves from the eyes of the mortals.


	29. The Western Sea

_Here it is the last and final installment of the **House of Celebrin and the Tale of the Last Son**, however there will be follow stories...I intend to make this a series, hopefully with the blessings of all you who read it. _

_Note on time period, much of this story flash-fowards through time, so one can get confused as to the time periods in Middle-Earth, It takes place during the beginning of the Third Age, after the birht of Arwen, as you know, and ends at the year 998 of the Third age. Enjoy._

* * *

The sound of the ocean beat against the hearts of Celebrin and Alphindil as they neared the center of Mithlond; in all the years they had been away, it had grown, significantly, the buildings were higher, the docks and harbor spanned from one side of the crescent cove to the next. One feature that stood out to them most was the almost ominous presence of the white towers in the east of the land, which were only marble foundations centuries ago. They walked through their former home, looking into the facades of cliffs, seeing stone-stairways winding up toward the plateau of the cliffs, where one could walk upon stone paved paths to the very edge and see ships disappear into the horizon. 

The sounds of music filled the air with shell flutes and horns, and the vibrant sound of clapping to deep sounding drums as voices rose to the sky singing songs of peace and joyous days. The streets were filled with the smells of bakeries and the scents of kitchens where daily meals were made with food given by the sea as well as breads made for the long journeying upon the ocean road. And yet while the city was teeming with life, much had not changed, despite the loss of a king and many a valiant elf, life had recovered from the long mourning it endured at the beginning of that age. The center of the city of all places had remained the same; no new buildings were built in the sacred plaza of the shipwrights, the plaza that extended down a smooth hill to a short cliff and toward the harbor where gray boats waited to carry its cargo wherever it was willed to go, whether to the southern land to trade with Gondor, or to the west and never return. The life amid this grand gray-stone city was a mix of such things, life remaining and life fleeting, for it was in the very air one breathed, and in the questions all would ask,

_"Will you return?"_

To Celebrin his former home was still the same it had always been, very much upon the edge of fleeing his grasp before he could truly reach out to touch it, its people slow to make friends and loved ones, choosing to acknowledge life was not always fair and constant even for the elves-this was the Sindar part of it, his beloved part. For Alphindil the grandness of the stone buildings and homes, regardless of whether or not they were inhabited by whole families for long periods of time, spoke most to him. In them there was continuity, their stone forms unyielding to the tests of time, imperishable by season and sea wind. To him its people were ever-present, their moods loving the crafts at their hands and the elf at their side, who at any time could be a student and teacher, provided they shared their likes- this was home in a land of the Noldor, continuous, immortal, not bended by the very waves of time. Here in Mithlond the Oak and the Cypress were always at odds and at balance with one another, one not changing the other suiting itself to the times, both surviving the tests of darkness, though now it seemed all had changed so that even the proud Noldor could bend to the winds of change, and the ever-moving Sindar could find continuity in life during times of peace.

Before the Hall of Cirdan they stood, waiting for the other to make the first move; having tied Thingalad to the stables, they now stood before the great wooden doors whose silver and bronze workings depicted two trees shimmering behind the veil of time. Celebrin moved the door only to have a slender face she-elf poke her own head out of the door, her bright golden braids dangling from behind her head. Seeing Celebrin her eyes opened wide and with a rushed movement opened the large door herself allowing them entrance into the chamber.

Nothing had changed- no lantern was moved, no tapestry taken down- and yet it was not the same-dimmer it seemed, emptier of life and movement. In their time there was always business in the Hall of Cirdan, families of the court, owners of ships, traders from Eregion, Eriador, and the farthest east, to the feet of the Misty Mountains. Yet now, Eriador and Arnor stood between the east and Mithlond, Gondor was the sea-capital of the south, and Eregion was no more. Upon the ancient steps that led to the seat of the Shipwright stood a simply dressed elf, dressed in the manner of a sailor, not regal as he used to dress. He stared at the two before him, in this empty hall of few burning candles, and he smiled as they too stared at him, for he was not as they remembered him, for his hair that was once the bold silver-gray of his youth now gleamed white as the snow upon Caradhras, and his ancient beautiful sea-gray eyes shone forth as mariner's lamps upon the cliffs that encircled the harbor. He ran to them and embraced one whose dark hair of nightshade made his own white tresses gleam as the moon come fully waxed amid the dark star-lit sky. No words were shared at that moment, as all that could be heard were the sounds of tears and rejoicing, laughter and shouts of praise to the gathering night that brought them together again.

That evening a great feast was laid out in the Hall of Cirdan and once again great lamps were lit in the grand hall and music could be heard in its theatric ceilings. And once again two companions sat in places of high honor beside the lord of Mithlond, and told him their stories ranging from the fortification of Lorinand to the founding of the sea-haven in the southern lands. Each moment a tale was told a minstrel wrote it down, only to loose track of the story as he or she became enthralled with the story told by the mouth of Alphindil, as he described lands many had never seen, at time receiving nods from some former soldiers in acceptance of the validity of the tales. And Celebrin spoke privately with the white haired lord of many things, as the evening came to a close and the last songs were sung for the lullabies of children. He spoke of the yearnings in his heart, the nights of suffering his friend endured, hoping that in all his years of life his foster father could give him one semblance of a cure; and yet all he received was a thoughtful nod of the ancient elf's head and a thoughtful,

"I see…"

And, given no answer, that night ended as Celebrin aided his companion in returning to the once vacant House of the Eledhrim, and helping him to bed, a task he had done for all the years of that age. And the white-haired Cirdan looked out of his window to the western seas, where the crescent moon began to set as the sun always did, completing the dance of that day; worry was imprinted upon his brow and he shook his head in grief for the one he always loved as his own son as he sighed over and over,

"Not another, he cannot loose another."

And days passed unto weeks, and weeks to months and so on, until the years rolled across the sky and the sun and moon had risen and set in uncounted lifetimes of men. Darkness, it was rumored, had found its way into the feet of the ancient home of Thranduil and his kin. In the years that followed news came to Cirdan of the death of Earendur, the last king of Arnor, and the newly founded kingdoms held by his sons. And yet life passed day by day in Mithlond, away from all that occurred to the outside world; Thingalad grew to full maturity, being far older than any had suspected he would become, yet still he ran the fields outside of Mithlond, freely, taking no mare to him and producing no sire. And many shook their heads in disappointment that such a fine creature, descended from the loins of the _mearas_, would not mate and create more sires of like beauty. And Celebrin would shake his head and laugh at their comments to him, saying only,

"Shall an immortal heart seek anything other than its own freedom?"

And yet life, as it has for many years, changes and is not the same as it was in former days; what happiness could be found in a place at one time, can never be found again in that same place, for if the world does not change, a heart does. And so Alphindil, though in what he once called home, found little solace in it. His new residence was close tot he shores ofEnnor, in view of the western sky and upon the second level he spent most of his days and nightsstaring out a large window smelling the fresh sea-wind. And he would at first invite others to enter his home, and he would tell stories of the eastern lands, until the pains that ran through his chest and shoulder became all too unbearable and he soon bid none to enter, save Celebrin. He would walk the streets of Mithlond, leaning on his stave, and see the immortal buildings and stairways that he could once run up faster than any in the city, and only see places for him to slowly climb up while others passed him by in their daily chores. And he would often sit, staring into the ocean as boats would say farewell to the land for a brief moment in time and return as the day grew long, laden with fish and gifts from land far away to the south. And in the silence of his chamber he would weep for a place that had now become too familiar, a place that saw him as unchanged by time, though in truth he was no longer the joyful being he once was. Each day it became harder for him to hide his pain as many wished to visit him, wishing to see a hero from the ancient times; these groups Celebrin would usher away before helping his friend to bed and serving him medicinal herbs that brought sleep to his pain weary bones.

And Cirdan would watch as his foster-son took upon himself the care of his companion, sighing at times at how his own body ached for lack of sleep, then quickly returned to tending to the pains that caused Alphindil to cry out at night terrors and weep for visions that never truly went away. And this the Lord of Mithlond abided, until one day, when he had sent Celebrin on an errand he visited the chamber of Alphindil, who sat upon a chair staring at a large pearl, whose lucent and opal-like nature gleamed in the light of the noontime sun. He walked cautiously into the chamber until he stood beside Alphindil and upon looking intently at the pearl exclaimed,

"I caught this long ago, in Beleriand."

"Did you? Celebrin found it in the Bay of Balar."

Alphindil's voice struck Cirdan as odd, for it sounded ancient and hale, yet empty of its once former vibrancy, yet once it ended the silence became all the more deafening, forcing the white-haired elf to speak again.

"I would know the pearl anywhere, it was once called Nimphelos, it dwelt in the Dwarven Kingdom of Belegost…until the War of Wrath…It must have found its way here after all this time…"

"A remembrance of those who past away? Who were freed from this cage that is called life."

Cirdan looked upon this elf before him, who had once brought life into his halls where his foster-son would sit about in darkness and think of naught but death. _Yes, _he thought,_ Celebrin may have saved his sanity, but he brought my child to life again and taught him how to love, when love was ripped from him…_ And Cirdan sat beside Alphindil pushing aside the ancient pearl, and looked deeply into his eyes and with his deep and ancient voice, melodious as the ever-moving sea, he said,

"Oianarion, I see the sorrow laden in your eyes, I have seen how you gaze into the sunset, longingly hearing the voice of the sea. I have seen your pain as you walk down the streets of Mithlond, and have heard your cries into the night sky…and…I have seen how Celebrin waits on you, devotionally, lovingly…and to be honest, I have envied you, the bond you share with him."

"Lord Cirdan…"

"No, you will listen to me. There is a cure for what you suffer from, yet I am loathe to say it to you, for fear that I may injure the one I hold most dear, and may break this bond that is centuries older than any have seen upon the face of Arda."

"What is this cure?"

"In the west it is said, one can find peace that the world cannot give, it is said that the straight road remains open to our kind, and beyond it…"

"What?"

"Beyond it lie the undying lands, where naught withers and fades as it does in this world, but is evergreen…There it is said, hope lies for the despairing, and for the wounded, healing beyond the arts of our kind."

"Such a road…is possible to take?"

"It was in former times, I know not if it still holds true. Yet be wary Oianarion. For the road west must begin with much heartbreak, and you must be ready to severe ties that have bound you to this world, for if they are not cut, you cannot return and find peace. It is the cost of leaving this world…There is a ship leaving, bearing some here who wish to seek that immortal road…it is for this reason why I have come to you, knowing you to be in pain, pain I cannot imagine, pain I cannot fathom even amongst all my years of life. It is your choice, Alphindil, to take this road and leave all behind you, knowing what I tell you is what will come to pass."

Celebrin entered the room, smiling to see his foster-father in his home, and having embraced him invited him to eat dinner with them. Yet Cirdan refused, saying only that he must tend to certain things; upon leaving the chambers he sat upon his chair that looked out into the west, and he wept silent tears, knowing only that he may have sown seeds that would have led to enmity, and will break the fragile bonds that he forged with the son of his sole kinsman. And throughout the night he held a silent vigil, hoping that his headstrong foster-son, would accept to follow his companion down a road he vowed never to take, many years ago.

Days passed and Cirdan heard no news from either his foster-son or Alphindil, until one day he received a private letter addressed to him and upon reading its contents he crushed the fragile paper and tossed it into the immortal sea, thereupon falling to his knees…until he looked at the amber daylight and said with a sowrrowful conviction,

"So be it"

* * *

Days followed thus in the lives of the companions, and in Alphindil's eyes, Celebrin could once again see hope, yet this was only when he gazed out into the sea. And Alphindil would not directly look into the eyes of his only family upon the earth, until one night when Celebrin returned from his day of errands and duties for the Lord of Mithlond he saw Alphindil standing before the hearth, holding close to him a piece of tattered cloth, part of an old shirt his friend once wore, the shirt he had worn the day the former age passed away and his life was marred by death. Before he could say a word Alphindil spoke staring into the fire, 

"998 years…for 998 years I have lived with this…curse... and have burdened you with my infirmity…"

Celebrin went to his friend, and Alphindil turned as quickly as he could and handed Celebrin the piece of torn linen saying softly,

"Why did you keep this?"

"I…To remember our past, to remember the day I almost lost you, and thereupon seeing it, know why I cherish our bond."

"You were always obsessed with the past…What would you have done, had I died that day?"

"Why do you ask this?"

"I wish to know. What would you have done?"

"I don't…"

"Would you have moved on? Without me there in your life?"

"I do not know…"

"If you lost me…"

"Why do you press this?"

"Would you cling to the past, hoping it would return? And to what end?! Only to live alone all the years of your life!…Of course you would, how foolish of me.. You have never been in love with the present Celebrin, only with the past. "

Alphindil moved closer to his friend, raising his right arm, the only one he could move with little pain, andcarressed the hair of his companion; his voice breaking as he saw the confused face of his only family all the years of his true life, tears running as memories flowed through his mind, memories of times in his youth, voices from a forgotten past,

_"Alas Alphindil, you do bring joy to my heart again, you are never without sorrow."_

_"Alas that you call me such a name, tis not my own."_

_"Were it not for your attire, I would have chosen another name for you my friend."_

Voices spanning space and time…

"_What ever happens this day, I love you Alphindil, I will be with you at your side as I have always been."_

_"You give me strength, Celebrin, even now amidst despair... whatever happens, I will not leave you to live a life alone in this world."_

Voices piercing his soul as whirlwinds pierce the stale wind, or how a river slowly cracks the foundations of a mountain, only to meet the immortal sea. Tears welled in his eyes as he caressed Celebrin's face, touching the scar upon his friend's right cheek, a scar he once could touch easily with the hand that now lay dormant, hanging form his shoulder. Weeping rivers of salty tears from his eyes his buried his face within the confines of Celebrin's tunic saying,

"Forgive me, Forgive me and my selfish heart."

Pulling his companion's face out from his breast he looked directly in his tear-laden eyes saying,

"For what offense shall I forgive you? You have done no wrong to me."

"I have lied, all these years I have lied to you…I have lied to one who has only asked that I be honest to earn his care."

"What evil bothers you Alphindil, that you say these things."

"There is a ship…whose sole destination, is the land of the setting sun…I have purchased a way upon that ship, with others who seek the straight path…to the Undying Lands."

Silence followed, and for what seemed like eternity nothing in the entire world made a sound, for years uncounted flowed through the mind of Celebrin and reason gave way to sorrow, and sorrow to madness and fear as he silently breathed in heavy breaths of air and in a low and growling voice he said at last,

"How dare you…How dare you do this, and tell me no word of it!"

"I was afraid, afraid of what you would do to prevent me from seeking out the _only_ cure I have left in this life."

"It is not the only cure, you are only giving up too easily…"

"This is the only way…"

"The only way to find your happiness, is to cause me sorrow? I do not believe this to be true!"

"If you would but go with me, then we would not be parted so!"

"I cannot, you know that way is perilous to me."

"Why?"

"I will not go to a land of strangers, and abandon my home…I hear not the song of the sea, or the mythological voices of the dead beckoning me to join them…The woods of Arda have been my home, the coves of the sea my retreats…Arda has been _our_ home for years uncounted, it surprises me you would abandon it so, when you have found nothing but joy here!"

"What joy? I have only found death here!"

"Am I death? Am I not life?"

"There are good memories here, Celebrin, but I can find no joy anymore, when I gaze into the forests or the rivers, I see the marring of the land. When I look now into the faces of my kin, I see hope…hope that always eludes me. When I see the stars, I see darkness, when I feel the bitter cold of winter, I feel my coffin of earth that I escaped when Sauron was defeated and all I had come to know was changed. When I hear the sea, I hear only its voice and nothing more…and for years I have ignored it, despite my soul and my longing! For you! When I see your eyes, I see you seeing the beauty of this world, and then I look out to where you see, and all I see is death… I once could see what you saw, but now…only fading, and death. Where once there was light, is now darkness; where once there was life, is now death; where once there was love is now emptiness, hollow winds, sweeping over a barren land. There is no peace this world can give me."

Shaking his head Celebrin tries to ignore all he has heard trying to dismiss it, saying only,

"It is the sickness…It is that which makes you this way!"

"Look into my eyes Celebrin! And tell me what you see!"

"Pain"

"Then you know what I have said is true, and you know the reason I must go."

At the loss of hope, Celebrin chuckled, his voice breaking and along with it the soul beneath it, and as if calling from the world of dreams, where all things are as deep as the ocean's depths he said,

"Is not love enough for you to stay Alphindil?…Are not the joys we once lived in and still could live in enough to keep you here?…Am _I _not enough?"

"No…"

In the silence that followed Celebrin felt his heart break beneath his breast, and he ran out of the chamber, into the gathering night. And he ran ignoring the calls that followed him, he ran until he passed the gate of Mithlond and beyond it to where the forests grew beside the river called Lune, and he ran into the very river, until it came up to his knees. And he fell prostrate before the eyes of heaven and wept bitter tears for the loss of his life, the loss of his hope and for the breaking of his hope. And he wandered the forests, beating at the strong oak trunks of the woods, tearing at his clothing until the dawn came, he then went by a secret path to the House of the Eledhrim, and there remained in secret thoughts he never before considered.

The morning passed, and still no word came from Celebrin; noon passed and no word, until Cirdan came to the chamber of Alphindil, his eyes downcast and his brow furrowed with disappointment; he said,

"I am sorry, but he will not speak to me, or to anyone…he remains within his chambers, and I hear naught from him, but cries of indignation…the hour grows late, it is time."

The journey to the harbor was longer in Alphindil's mind than he had ever remembered, around each corner he expected the cloaked figure of his companion to greet him, as he had done many times before, and keep true the oath to go where he trod. Yet no such thing happened, and the closer they came to the harbor, the farther down the sun set below the straight horizon and the brighter the amber of its hue dimmed the day and made all golden and frozen in time. And his items were placed on board the ship, and he stood at the docks, until all the others had said their farewells and their weeping families and loved ones bid them safe journey and promises were made to meet again, if that chance were ever to arise. And the captain came, and told Alphindil,

"We cannot wait, the sun grows deeper and soon the tide will be lost to us…"

Alphindil looked into the crowd of the gathered and saw no familiar eyes, save for those of Cirdan, who sorrowfully bowed his head in a solemn farewell. And his reluctant feet walked up the boarding plank, and the gate was closed as the crew of the ship untied the ropes that kept the ship tied to the gray harbor.

And Alphindil wept in his heart, knowing all he had done was irreversible, and he could not think how cruel it was to not say farewell, but only how hurt Celebrin must feel to not even give a silent farewell to his companion, whose bond with him was stronger than that of family or friend. And as he saw the ropes becoming undone and the boarding plank pulled into the slender gray ship he heard a call go out from the crowd,

"Stop the ship, Stop!"

He looked up to see a darkly cloaked person run toward the harbor and was pulled back into the crowd; to which Cirdan intervened and told the Captain,

"Let him pass! Your lord commands you!"

And Alphindil walked as quickly as he could down the steps of the boarding plank and stood before the cloaked figure whose raven hair began to shimmer as the starlight as the sun was lost behind the horizon and the moon rose higher to be seen above the hills and cliffs that guarded the lands of Cirdan. And the figure removed his hood and revealed a tear strewn face, whose stern visage, kept back more tears and a broken soul. Alphindil smiled to see his companion again and was about to embrace him when he was stopped by Celebrin's hand and his sorrow laden voice spoke out,

"I have not come, to join you on this journey, nor do I bid you farewell, because you and I both know you will never return and our eyes...wil never meet again. I have come to look one last time, upon the person whom all my love- the love greater than family, or friend- has been cast upon. I loved you Alphindil, as I would love myself andas I would cherish Doriath, as I would cherish Arda, I cherish you the same. But my path, my friend, does not lead to where yours does…I know this now…"

And Celebrin knelt upon both of his knees and from his cloak he procured a dagger and bent low his head, allowing a tender braid to fall before his eyes, a braid that hung from the back of his head. And he took what elves cherished most of their bodies, what took all the immortal years of their lives to grow and if cut, could possibly never grow again, and he tore the braid loose from his gathered tresses of nightshade hair. The torn braid blew in the sea wind like a streaking comet across the star-lit sky, its dark hue like a steed whose uncommon color was that of the midnight when no moon shone out into the world and was as before the his and his gentle maiden's coming. And Celebrin rose from where he solemnly knelt and, taking the hand of his companion of long years, placed the gentle braid of hair into it, closing his fingers around it as if it were a prized; he then kissed the closed hand that held the lock of hair and said, with a breaking voice upon the edge of bitter sorrow,

"Take this…and think kindly of me when you see it…"

"Why…"

"Our friendship is broken, for nothing remains to keep it as it once was…my last hope is that this will remind you of what you left behind…what you chose to leave…Think it not a curse….but the last gift I have to give thee, the last piece of my heart I hold most dear, the piece where you will live always and never be apart from me, all the days of my life…"

And he embraced him, so tightly that breath almost escaped them both, and tears flowed down to the wood of the harbor, and he kissed the forehead and lips of his companion and wet his tunic with his farewell tears. Saying at last in a broken whisper,

"Go."

And Alphindil at last boarded the ship again, never taking his eyes off of his companion even as the ship left the confines of the harbor and passed the great Gates of the sea, where one could see the towers of Cirdan. Hope faded and shadows enveloped him, yet through tear-filled eyes he still kept his gaze upon the harbor and one lone figure, who dropped to his knees and crumbled in sorrow, crying out to the stars. And he heard the gulls call their song of farewell and the pale moon rose above the parapets of the mountains in the distance, and at long last Mithlond was a speck of a tear in the eyes of Alphindil as he himself kissed the lock of hair in his hand, and mourned the passing of an era, the passing of his heart.

* * *

_Well this is the end of this storyline, it saddens me to end this story which i have had fun writing and pouring myself into...and I am glad any of you got this far did read this to the very end, even though response was muted somewhat. I thank you Elfique for beig my most vocal fan, and Redha thanks for that review you sent me, Archaic scribe, you prolly got this far by the time you read this and I hope you all enjoyed it. _

_Look for the sequel(s) coming up, depending on how interesting a character you all think Celebrin is. Now that it is over don't be shy to review or reply to this work, not that the story will change much but i would like to have your opinions- who knows it might change a bit._


End file.
